


Under the Surface

by 1jet2unknown



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angry Derek, Angst, Antagonism, Bad Boy Derek, Child Stiles, Creeper Matt, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deputy Parrish - Freeform, Dorms, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Half-Human, Half-Werewolf, Hurt Stiles, Jealousy, Love/Hate, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pack Feels, Psychological Trauma, Revelations, Roommates, Scent Kink, Secret Identity, Secrets, Sleepwalking, Sleepy/Unconscious Sex, Supportive Derek, Torture, Violence, Wolf Derek, Wolf Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-31 09:02:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 99,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1jet2unknown/pseuds/1jet2unknown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had been warned several times by his father to never go near a werewolf. But the 12 year old kid just couldn't resist its curiousity and even though the wounded wolf he found near the woods should have been terrifying, he brought him home, trying to help him heal. Little did he know that this encounter would bring out a side of him he never knew and would have to hide forever, even with the world around him changing over the years and werewolf turning from mystic legends to open members of the community.<br/>When Stiles enters College and his life gets more and more entangled with Derek Hale, it gets harder and harder for him to hide his true self from the world...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> So this would be my first Teen Wolf fic... and I am not quite sure whether my characters match the originals or not, so if you have any tips or constructive feedback, please leave me some comments to help me improve :)
> 
> No fixed update schedule, as it highly depends on how busy I am with work and private life, but be sure I will update as soon as possible!

Stiles had just turned 12 when he first encountered a full-blooded werewolf.

The black animal was almost the same height as him, even in its crouched position on the soaked grass. Its eyes, a crimson red, followed the small boy as he approached him slowly and a low, threatening growl left his throat. “It’s okay….” Stiles whispered, “I won’t hurt you.” But the wolf bared his teeth, the growl turning into a sharp bark when Stiles shaking hand stretched out for him. With a scared huff Stiles backed off, tripping over his feet and stumbling onto the ground. He rubbed his back and sat up, his eyes never leaving the creature in front of him. “Don’t be afraid…” his voice was a bit too high pitched than he wanted it to sound, but he continued anyway. “You’re hurt. You can’t stay here.”

He had spotted the crushed leg that spread from the dark creature in an unnatural angle right away and at first he wanted to follow his fathers lessons about how to react when running into a werewolf alone. “Never look him in the eyes and never make any rash movements. Distract him with hard lights from a flashlight if you need to and get the hell out of there.”, he remembered his fathers voice. “Never get near a werewolf. You hear me, Stiles? Never ever touch one of them!” He had learned a lot about werewolves from his dad. At first he thought he was bullshitting him, telling him scary tales to stop him from being the pain in the ass Stiles knew he was sometimes. But the stern, almost pained look on his fathers face had convinced him that maybe there really was something out there he should prepare himself for. Because even if his dad never touched the topic during his talks about werewolves, Stiles just knew that the pain his dad tried to hide away was connected to his dead mother. He had never asked about it, but Stiles was sure that the whole werewolf-thing had something to do with him growing up with only one parent.

So every normal person in his right mind would have run for his life when spotting the drenched creature near the woods. But Stiles wasn’t everyone, definitely not normal and obviously not in his right mind when he slowly walked up to the black wolf and started talking to him in the most soothing voice he could muster. “If you stay here and people find you, they will kill you.” Stiles whispered and once again stretched out his hand, slowly, in direction of the crimson eyes. The wolf crinkled his nose and snarled again, backing his head away from the approaching hand as far as he could. Stiles stilled in his motion, his hand just about 30 centimeter away from the wolf, and looked him deep in the eyes, a slightly crooked, shy smile on his lips. “Let me just see your leg, okay? Maybe I can help you heal…” he whispered, his other hand slowly expanding sideward towards the wolf’s back. He didn’t understand why the wolf didn’t just heal.

According to his dad’s lessons and what he had researched in books and on the internet, werewolves were supposed to be able to heal their wounds, even heavy ones. He had been intrigued with the idea of healing as he was left with new bruises and scratches almost every day from being just a little bit more clumsy and a lot more hyperactive than other kids his age, falling and running into things almost nonstop. Why then, why did the creature in front of him – who clearly was a wolf of the supernatural kind – not heal himself as all the stories told he was able to?

To Stiles surprise the wolf stopped growling and instead seemed to start sniffing his left hand that very slowly but steadily had moved closer. The young boy held still, watching the crimson eyes flicker lightly and almost held his breath when the creature moved its head carefully in his direction, taking in his scent as it seemed. When the wet nose finally touched his fingertips, Stiles let out a stuttered sigh in excitement and unconsciously beamed up, raindrops falling from his soaked hair. “See?” he asked, his voice a little high pitched, “I won’t harm you.” He carefully let his fingers glide over the wet fur above the wolf’s nose, caressing the spot between those incredibly beautiful crimson eyes that seemed to follow his every move. “Now…” Stiles’ eyes moved to wolf’s crushed leg and slowly moved his right hand in its direction, the other hand still soothingly stroking over the animals nose.

The wolf let out a pained howl, its head turning to where Stiles had just now touched what was left of his leg. Without really knowing why, Stiles bent over, his fingers curling around the wolf’s head pulling himself so close that their foreheads touched, their eyes locking immediately. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I will be more careful. I promise.” The wolves stared at him, the crimson color so close now that it almost burned Stiles’ eyes. Then after what seemed like an eternity of stillness, their breaths mingling white in the cold of the autumn air, the wolf closed its eyes and leaned in a little bit closer.

Stiles smiled, giving the wolf a slight nudge with his nose before turning sideways watching his hand carefully investigating the situation of the crippled leg. Seeing it from up close now made Stiles almost wince in pain: An open wound set a red contrast to the black fur and the bone underneath seemed almost crashed. “We gotta get you out of the rain. I can’t help you here…”Stiles whispered, his head carefully rubbing against the wolfs’ head. “I will pick you up, okay?” his head twisted a bit, so he could look the wolf in his eyes, hopeful to find some approval. The wolf let out a sigh, his eyes closed and Stiles swallowed, his hands carefully finding their way beneath the huge creature, careful as to not put any pressure to the injured leg.

Stiles almost fell over, the wolf a lot heavier than he expected it to be, but he managed to steady his feet on the slippery ground beneath his feet and started stumbling back to the small road that lead through the preserve. He knew he wasn’t allowed in the preserve, his dad had told him numerous times that he would be grounded for years if he ever found him there, but it proved to be a short cut to the small patch of forest where Scott and he had built their tree house. “Only a few more minutes..” he mumbled, not sure whether he actually was talking to the wolf or trying to cheering himself on. His legs were shaky after only a few hundred meters, but the wolfs’ head leaning against the crooked of his neck was enough motivation to keep him stumbling forward.

After stumbling out of the forest and through several backyards – the sight of a 12year old drenched boy with a black beast in his arms would not be something that people in Beacon Hills would be able to ignore – Stiles pushed open the door to his home. Carefully he glanced around the corner into the living room, a sigh leaving his lips when he noticed his dad wasn’t home. “Guess he got a case he can’t leave alone…” he mumbles to himself and looks at the creature in his arms. Smiling he nudges the head of the black wolf and pushes him up a bit further in his by now trembling arms. “In my room you can rest for a bit, hm?”

After almost falling up the stairs, a curse leaving his lips as pain stringing through the toe Stiles is pretty sure he just broke, he put down the wolf on his bed, patted his back quickly and then hopped out to the bathroom to get some towels. And when Stiles returned he found the wolf stretched out on his comforter, the crimson eyes half open staring in his direction. Stiles sat down right next to the wolfs, carefully draining the rain from the black fur. “You know… I… ,“ he bit down on his lip “I don’t know much about how to heal your injury… I mean I thought werewolves healed themselves?” He looked down at his right hand, his fingers massaging the soft ears of the wolf in an unsure attempt to calm him down. “You are a werewolf, right?”

The animal lifted its head, the nose wiggling a little bit when huffing, and then snuggled into Stiles lap, which made the boys chest feel funny with all the happiness this small gesture caused in him. “I take that as a yes.”, he whispered, curling down to hug the fluffy creature in front of him. “I could put some of the wound creme on your leg? And maybe put a bandage on it?” Stiles sniffled slightly, possibly having caught a cold in the autumn rain.  “But I’m sure you have to see a vet” The wolf let out a disapproving growl but stopped immediately when Stiles stiffened and pulled away a little. “O-Okay… no vet.”, the boy sighed. “But your leg won’t heal if we don’t…” The words got stuck in his throat when his eyes moved to the animals’ leg and he noticed that the bone seemingly had straightened. The wound was still visible, half dried blood and pink flesh a strong contrast to the dark fur around it, but it seemed as if slowly but steadily the wound started closing from the inside. “Wow!” Stiles shrieked, his eyes going wide with fascination “You really are healing! That’s so cool!”

The wolf nudged his head against Stiles torso, making the boy tear his gaze from his leg to his face, and opening his eyes he revealed glazed eyes of a color that was so mesmerizing that it turned Stiles brain to mush for a second. “You…” the boy stuttered. “You’re… really beautiful.” And even tough it was just for a faint second, Stiles was sure he saw the wolf smile before he closed his eyes again and snuggling up against the warmth that was Stiles stomach.

Stiles woke up to a sound from downstairs and it took a few seconds until his brain started moving. It was still dark in front of his window, the moonlight drawing long shadows on the floor. Stiles yawned and turned around to get some more sleep when he noticed the warm breath on his collarbone. He opened his eyes slightly, finding the wolf in his arms and a smile curled up his lips. Ignoring the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Stiles buried his face in the incredibly soft fur and took a deep breath. No one ever told him werewolves smelled this wonderful, almost sweet. It made his stomach flutter and a warm feeling spread slowly in his chest. If time would stop right now, he would have no regrets… .

But time didn’t stop. Instead it seemed to speed up when the door to Stiles room flung open and his father stepped into the room. “Sorry I’m so late…” the older man whispered as he sat down on the edge of Stiles bed, “But there was a huge fire at…” The sheriffs’ voice died immediately when he noticed the black bulk next to his son. “Stiles, what have you done?!” he screamed, pulling the young boy away from the creature. “What? I… I haven’t…” Stiles stuttered, suddenly wide awake. “He’s not… He’s… He’s good!” But the sheriff didn’t listen to him, instead dragged him out of the room and into the bathroom, the door shutting loudly behind them. Stiles found himself pushed onto the closed toilet seat while his father hastily locked the door. “I told you to never go near a werewolf!” Stiles had known his dad would be angry, but his voice right now sounded not angry,  rather… scared? “I told you you can’t go near them! I told you it would be dangerous!” “But he’s not dangerous!” Stiles interjected, having a hard time to stay still and not run for the door, back to where the wolf laid with his fluffy fur, his intriguing smell and his beautiful, beautiful eyes. “It’s not about him!” his father shrieked and Stiles looked up in confusion. “What?” He didn’t understand what his father was so worked up about. “It’s not about whether he himself if dangerous or not.”, his father repeated, his face a grimace of fear and pain. “It’s,… it’s about the impact he has on you.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say, and really that was rare.  He simply stared at his dad, confused and somehow scared. “He…” his father started, biting down on his lips as to steady himself as he pulled his son in a tight hug. “He brings out your true self.” The  words were an almost inaudible whisper against Stiles shoulder, but they rang in the small boys ears as if a thousand decibel. “My… what?” Not finding the right words, the Sheriff let out a stuttered sigh and pushed his son a few inches away from him. Stiles saw the tears in his fathers eyes and slowly turns to face the mirror next to the shower. A shriek leaves his lips when he studies his reflection: His eyes have turned a shimmering yellow, his pupils wider than they should be and small fangs that definitely should not be there show between his lips. “What… What is happening to me?” He whimpers, clinging onto his dads arm when his knees seem to give out. His father pulls him in a tight hug again, desperately searching for the right words.

“I didn’t want to tell you.. especially not like this…” his father starts in a hoarse whisper. “You… You’re a half-blood. Half human, half werewolf.” Stiles didn’t know how to respond to that, his brain rumbling with thousands of thoughts simultaneously, but unable to find an answer. So the small boy opted for crying silently at his confusion. His father started rubbing his big hands carefully over the quivering boys back while explaining in broken words that, while Stiles might not remember much about his mother, she was not only a wonderful woman, mother and wife but also a creature of the supernatural. He told his son in careful, soothing words how a relationship between a human and a werewolf was frowned upon, how they still hold onto their feelings for each other and how happy they had been when Stiles had presented them with his first dopy smile.

“Your mother died… it looked like an accident, but I’m sure it were people who didn’t want to live with the supernatural. And… if….” His voice cracked. “If they ever found out that you, too, have the ability to change in you…” The sheriff looked to the floor, his shoulders heavy and his breath unsteady when he continued, his words nothing more than a whisper. “I don’t know what I would do if I lose you, too…” Stiles slung his arms tighter around his dad, knowing he might not be able to take the pain from his fathers’ chest, but trying still. “I won’t let them find out.” The boy said firmly. “I’ll never show anyone. I’ll… I’ll be more careful. I’ll be good. I promise.”

When both, the Stiles as well as the Sheriff had calmed down, Stiles watched his father slowly turning the key and opening the bathroom door. He took out the gun he wore on his waist and walked towards his sons room. “No…” Stiles heard himself whisper. “No!” he repeated in a scream and ran up to his father, tugging at his belt in a frantic attempt to keep him out of his room. “You can’t hurt him! It’s not his fault… He has done nothing wrong!” But his dad wasn’t listening, throwing open the door and immediately turning to the bed, the gun in his hands searching for the black creature. But the bed was empty, the wolf gone. Stiles let out the breath he didn’t even notice he had held and stared through the open window into the moonlit sky.

He hadn’t seen the werewolf of that night again, even though he secretly searched for him, strolling through the forest of the preserve whenever he knew his dad wasn’t around. Even when werewolves grew in numbers and began to show themselves more openly, taking over the community over the years Stiles found himself secretly searching for that particular pair of eyes with it’s mesmerizing color that was able to send butterflies through his stomach even through nothing but the reminiscence. But even so he honored the promise he made to his dad, training himself to keep his wolf hidden even in the presence of werewolves. And when Scott, his best buddy since he could remember, was turned he sighed in relief finding his training to have been successful as no bearhug, no movie night on the couch or sleepover made him lose control. Sometimes he even wondered whether his memory had not played a trick on him and he actually really was a fullblooded human.

That was until Stiles entered College and ran into Derek Hale…


	2. Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has entered College and normally he should be enthusiastic to continue the next level school with his best friend, but there's the high percentage of werewolves in Garnier Academy and the fact that some of them are no one else but his tormentors from High School. And to top it all off he runs into Derek post-grad student and scary as fuck werewolf Hale - or more like crashes right into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... we're finally entering the main story! College for our cute wolves and their friends :)  
> I didn't think I'd finish this chapter so fast, but as I am still sick and didn't go to work today - tada! Hope you enjoy this chapter - and if you do: Leave some comments or Kudos :D
> 
> Oh and as a small background info:   
> Garnier Academy is not a normal College, but a private school mainly constructed for werewolves though humans with the respective performance in High School are accepted, too, in order to foster a peaceful coexistence between the two species.   
> Garnier btw. was the name of a werewolfe in France a few hundred years ago who was burnt after confession.

 “Dude, what’s with the sour face, we’re in College - together!” Stiles couldn’t share Scotts enthusiasm. Not really. True, he had been hoping to stick together with his best friend even after High School, but the Garnier Academy wasn’t really what he had dreamed off. Yes, it was awesome that he got in a prestigious college on scholarship and yes, it was even more awesome that his best friend and some other familiar faces from High School had been accepted, too. But hiding his true self had been hard enough as it had been – living in the dorms of a co-ed College amongst a bunch of werewolves was definitely not helping him there.

“Yeeaaah!” he forced a smile on his face, unwillingly giving in to Scotts’ happy smile and providing him with a rather unmotivated high five. Scott still beamed up before and turned around looking at the crowd lining up in front of them. “Come on, dude. I know you’re not too thrilled about the majority of werewolves here, but you’re not the only human one, remember?” Stiles sighed and gave Scott one of his polished you-gotta-be-kidding-me-looks. “Unfortunately I’m neither an evil mastermind like Lydia nor an archery-master slash trained killer like Allison!” he snorted and pushed his entry sheet towards the brown haired girl in sitting behind the counter that read “admission”. She put a stamp on it, typed something on the laptop sitting next to her and gave him a blue folder full of papers. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Scott interjected and handed over his papers, too, while waiting for an answer from Stiles.

 “Welcome to Garnier Academy.” Stiles could very much empathize with the low level of motivation in the voice of the girl in front of him who now proceeded a key from the shelf behind of her and handed it over. “Your room will be in Building Roser, room 902. You find the house regulations in your folder as well as the schedule for the introduction tour today.” Stiles nodded slightly, flipping the key between his fingers. “You know exactly what I mean”, Stiles snapped at Scott and stepped aside, waiting for his friend to receive his key. “I mean you know about my awesome people-skills, how throughout Elementary and High school I hardly was able to keep my admirers off.” He rolled his eyes to drive his point further. “And you know how wonderfully I got along especially with our hairy friends… I just say: Jackson?”

Scott put the key with the golden 200 on it in his pocket and gave Stiles a snort. “Yeah, because all werewolves are like him. I know he can be quite a dick and you hate him even more because he’s with Lydia” Stiles wanted to interject, but snapped his open mouth closed and bit down the sarcastic comment that lay on his tong when he was immediately met with Scotts raised eyebrows. “You know I’m right, Stiles. You can’t know how things will turn out. Yes, there are less humans here than in High School, and yes, some of them might be douches. But” Scott made huge gestures with his hands, finally stretching out his arms. “we’re in College, dude! In College! It will be awesome!” And with this he pulled Scott with one arm and pushed him off to get their books. Stiles still had a feeling like his guts were put in a not, but let himself be dragged off with a sigh and a small shake of his head.

 

Stiles heart felt lighter after Allison had joined the two and all of them left their introduction course. There might be more werewolves around than he was used to but the introduction had sounded just awesome, not only the curriculum he could chose but also the club activities. And when they had taken a short tour around campus Stiles had to admit, that the facilities and dorms were modernly equipped and very clean, even though the architecture might have looked old from the outside. Stiles smiled to himself. Maybe Scott was right, maybe he could really like it here.

“How about we put down our stuff in our rooms and then meet up downstairs to get the books for the courses we applied for?” Allison suggested with a wide smile after they had returned to the class room and retrieved their luggage. Scott nodded, a dorky smile on his lips, as he slipped his hand into Allison’s and shouldered his huge bag. “Alright”, Stiles picked up his luggage a little bit less gracefully than everyone else, almost falling over when the attempt to copy Scott and swing his bag over his shoulder made him lose balance for a second. “Then, see you in five. In front of the fountain?” The others nodded in agreement and made their way for the door. Stiles followed them with his eyes, smiling a little lonely. “College.” He said to himself. “Who says I couldn’t finally find happiness? Would be about time…”

Outside he waved a short goodbye and turned to walk into the direction of his dorm, the other two steering towards the huge building to the right of the gymnasium, the Building Falter, where they were assigned to. Buckling his luggage, Stiles shuffled through the crowd of sophomores his eyes on the map in his hands that was already so crumpled that it was hard to read. “Roser…” he mumbled, furring his brows and looking around. “Roser… Hah!” His lips curled up in a victorious grin when he spotted the flowery emblem above the entrance of one of the buildings with huge, dark red letters beneath it. He entered with quick steps and fumbled the key out of his pocket. “902… so…. 9th floor?” he muttered and looked around searching for an elevator. But besides the huge staircase in the middle of the building there were only dark wooden doors with silver numberplates on it.

“Excuse me”, he tried one of the students passing him. “Do you know where the elevator is?” The boy laughed, his blond locks bouncing off his temples. “Elevator?”, he chuckled. “Dude, there is no elevator.” Stiles face must have turned long and pale because the blonde couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Which floor?” he asked an empathetic smile on his face. “9th..:” Stiles groaned and threw his head back. And here he thought his bad luck might just leave him…   
The blonde’s smile grew wider, revealing white teeth between bright red lips, and reached for the bag in Stiles hand. “I’m 7th floor, so until there I can help you out.” Stiles watched the boy put the heavy bag on his shoulder with ease and adding another huge sports bag on top of it just as easily before leading the way to the staircase. “Let me guess…” Stiles followed eyeing the blond guys back. “Werewolf?” The blond turned around with a smirk. “Jackpot. But you could just call me Isaac.”

Stiles shook Isaacs hand and even though he was aware that getting even more werewolf-friends might put his secret in danger, he felt a dizzy happiness warm his belly when he gave Isaac his name. He _had_ awesome people skills afterall! And Isaac seemed like a super friendly, awesome guy, not at all like douche bag Jackson or the other werewolves who had made an afterschool activity out of harassing him all through High School. “So…” Isaac huffed, putting down Stiles back in front of his feet, the wooden floors squeaking silently.   “I have to turn left here. 710.” Stiles nodded and held his side. This stairs were frickin killing him. What kind of sadist built a dorm with 10 floors without an elevator? “Alright.” He huffed. “So... hopefully we see each other in World history then?” Isaac nodded and shuffled towards his room. “Good luck with the last two floors!” Stiles heard him laugh before he slipped around a corner.

Stiles wished he had Scotts old inhaler with him when he finally reached the 9th floor. His lungs squeaked with every breath he took and his hands were shaking when they tried to open the door with the silver 902 on it. Finally the lock stopped being a fricking dick and let the key slip in so Stiles could turn it with a not very smooth motion of his hand. “Finally….” He sighed and pushed the wooden door open, revealing the room that laid behind it:

The sun was shining through the huge window right across of the room, the blue sky a nice contrast to the walls painted in bright white. On both sides of the room stood a solid bed with white sheets covered by a red comforter, the one to the right a bit messy as if someone had slept in it until just a while ago. “Oh come on…” Stiles sighed as he pushed his bag into the room. “Shared? Really?” He pulled his last strength together and heaved his bag onto the bed to the left and letting himself follow immediately, his head falling on the soft pillow and his limbs a comfortable mess half in- half outside the bed.

Lazily he turned his head to inspect the room further, spotting two heavy desks in front of the window, the nightstands next to each bed. His room mate seemed to not have a very outgoing personality, Stiles assumed as his eyes screened the nightstand and found nothing but a simple clock and a book about politics, probably from a higher semester. Stiles yawned, way too exhausted from making the way up to his room, but still swung his feet off the bed and walked over to the huge closet next to the entrance. “Perfect match”, Stiles huffed as he roamed through the clothes that already took up most of the shelves. “Does that person wear anything else than black or grey?” He sighed. With his luck his room mate was most probably a total nerd-looser, and with high possibility a werewolf on top of that. Not that he was the center of attention either, but Stiles still had his standards. He silently hoped that at least that person would have some basic comic or movie knowledge, so he wouldn’t have to spent his days talking to a wall of irritated silence.

A look at his watch reminded Stiles that he should be downstairs already meeting Scott and Allison, so he picked up the key he had dropped on the nightstand, peeked his head through the door next to the entrance, nodding at the spacious bathroom and reminding him to inspect it more thoroughly afterwards before leaving his room and speeding downstairs, taking three steps at a time.

 “Sorry” Stiles squeaked and bent over trying to catch his breath. “9th floor…. Only stairs…. Me…. Totally screwed.” Scott gave him a pat on the shoulder, “Well… at least you can skip the gym then, hm?”, while Allison just shot him a sympathetic look, offering the small bottle of water she carried in her purse. Stiles gratefully accepted the offer, trying to put out the scraping heat in his throat. “Thanks, exactly what I needed.” Stiles smiles and wipes some pearls of water off his lips. “So what was the plan?” Allison stores the water bottle in her purse and points over her shoulder. “We should get our books. You have your list with you, right?”

Stiles eyes widen in shook, his hands desperately searching his pockets. “Don’t make me run up there again…” he whines, retrieving several papers, a couple of lonesome stripes of gum, the head of a batman figurine and several other useless stuff from his pants and shirt. “Oh come on… come on…. YES!” Stiles beams up when he straightens out one of the papers and proudly holds it up into Allison’s face. “Got it!” Scott just shakes his head a little and starts trotting off towards the building with a huge sign next to the entrance reading “Books”.

 

“How could the level of Garnier Academy possible drop so much that even lowlifes like Stilinski are accepted?”

Stiles rolled his eyes with a grown and turned around to face Jacksons sarcastic smile. “I hope you are not referring to him being a human?” Lydia pursed her lips and lifted her eyebrows accusingly while tapping her foot. Stiles loved that look on her face, almost terrifying if on the receiving end but with Jackson being the one getting his ass kicked? Pure awesome. Of course he knew that Lydia did not actually defend him – she always made it very clear that even though both of them belonged to the same human race (at least that’s what Stiles made everyone believe) they were of totally different levels. And Stiles of course being the lowest of them. But Stiles forgave the uncrowned beauty of Beacon Hills every insult willingly, especially as she started actually noticing his presence and talking to him more often since Allison turned out to be her new best friend.

“Come on, Sweety” Jackson pulled her in and gave her a small peck on the perfectly painted cheek. “You know that you and Stilinski are far from the same species.” Lydia threw back a couple of red locks and split her pink lips in a huge smile. “Same species, but point taken.”, she commented with a bat of her lashes and turned around to ask Allison about her room and courses. And before Jackson could fire off a few more insults, Scott hit Stiles in the side and nodded in the direction of the stalls that were erected in the huge hall. “Wanna check out whether there’s a Lacrosse team?” Stiles just shrugged but followed his friend anyway. He wasn’t to keen to keep on playing Lacrosse. Especially not in a school full of werewolves! Even when they were a purely human team he had spent most of the time on the bench and when Scott had been turned even in friendly games he had beaten the shit out of him, so he really felt like passing and instead find some circle where he could put his real skills to use: Research, Talking, Multitasking. He just hadn’t found the time to actually talk to Scott about the whole topic.

“Guys, you better head back – it should be our turn soon” Allison called out to them, waving her hand in their general direction and Stiles peeled Scott away from the two big guys he had been talking about their club activities for the past 10 minutes. “Books, Scotty-boy, Books.” He reminded him and made his way through the crowd that by now filled the hall.  
When they finally made it to Allison’s side Lydia and Jackson were already standing at one of the tables in front of them, older students searching the boxes in the back while pointing at titles written on the lists in their hands. “Don’t give me one of those old things, okay?” Stiles heard Jackson command and rolled his eyes in disbelief, but before any snarky comment could leave his lips Allison pushed him towards the table to their right where a girl in a red T-shirt was already waiting.

“Hey.” Stiles awkwardly tried to straighten out the mess of a list he held in his hands before laying it on the table. The girl smiled, her green eyes turning to little halfmoons. “Hey. Welcome to Garnier Academy! …Oh, History? I, too, major in history!” she said happily while getting up to look for his books. Stiles looked after her with a dopey smile on his face, thinking that maybe College was awesome after all. The girl, her arms filled with a couple of heavy looking books, returned to her seat and yes, College definitely was great, Stiles decided when she looked up at him again. “So…” she knitted her eyebrows, desperately trying to read out Stiles name. “Just Stiles is okay.” He helped her out, being rewarded with another heartbreakingly beautiful smile. “Stiles then. So here’s your books…” She continued to read out every title and crossed it off his list, seemingly adding a few details to some editions, but Stiles was too mesmerized to listen fully.

When Scott greeted him a few steps to the side after a few minutes, Stiles just bumped his fist in his friends shoulder “College? Awesome!” and grinned. Scott nodded, half of his face buried in a teethy smile and signaled a slightly lost Allison their position. “Wow” she huffed when she finally made it through a group of tall, broad shouldered guys. “I didn’t know we would get so many books. Damn their heavy!” Stiles watched slightly jealous as Scott took half of her books – Werewolf-strength and so on – silently wishing he, too, would have someone awesome to help him with his stuff. But when he noticed the girl in the red T-shirt looking in his direction, he decided that carrying his own books was exactly his style.

“Dude, that girl was so cute!”, he threw at Scott, his free hand making wild gestures as to underline his point while they made their way back downstairs. “I swear, she totally flirted with me!” Allison just smiled – a little bit too disbelievingly in Stiles opinion – and Scott just grinned bumping his shoulder. “Told you College would be awesome.” And just as Stiles was about to totally agree with him, he tripped over his open shoelace and lost balance. “Stiles!” Allison and Scott shouted in unison, but it was already too late and Stiles spun uncoordinatedly, his books dropping to the ground and he could already see himself crashing into the floor face down, when suddenly something black and huge stopped his fall.

Stiles hissed at the sudden impact and pushed himself back, looking up not at something but rather someone: A tall guy in a black T-shirt that stretched tightly over his muscular arms. “Uh… Sorry.” was all he brought over his lips with the tall guy staring down at him, nostrils flaring, eyes squinted into sharp, unwelcoming slits. He must have been not that much taller than Stiles, but from where he was wrapped around the black guys torso, arms slung around his hips – how could people build up muscles even there, Stiles wondered – he looked like a frickin giant and he had a smell that almost made Stiles heart stop for a second, before taking up a rhythm so fast that he feared it might just break through his ribcage and scatter on the floor next to his books.  

“Hands off.”, the guy hissed, small lips bearing sharp canines. _Of course…_ First day of college and he bumps into the possibly most frightening, huge werewolf there is…. and almost shits his pants.  “Y-Yes.. sure…” he managed to mumble, eyes still lingering on the guys beautiful – scary as shit, no question! But beautiful – face when he peeled himself off the black guys chest, fingers shaking slightly when a weird feeling flashes through his body. There it was again, that scent… and it made yellow lights dance behind Stiles eyes. Hurriedly he shut his eyes, trying hard to concentrate and calm his body, bending down to avoid any eye contact. It had been years since the last time he wolfed out, but Stiles was sure that that was what the frizzling feeling was. Feeling the tall guys suspicious eyes on him, he quickly busied his hands with picking up the books scattered all over the floor.

“Don’t be so mean…” he heard a girl’s voice comment cynical and glanced up, only now noticing that the scary werewolf had company. He was pretty sure he never met the silent black guy who stood in the back, his arms crossed in front of his chest, before but the slender girl with the blonde wavy mane leaning against the railing looked very familiar, though he was pretty sure she wore less tacky clothes before. “Hey Stilinski”, Erica grinned at him and Stiles let out a huff. There it was again, his bad luck that made him run not only into Jackson but also into the next exhibit of the “werewolves that made Stiles Stilinski’s High School life a total wreck” collection, just when he was happily declaring College life was awesome. But hey, at least Erica helped him control his pulse again… so not everything was bad about their encounter, though Stiles was sure she would make his life a living hell – again.

“Stiles?” another familiar sounding voice reached his ear and before he even could start wrecking his brain where he knew the voice from, short blonde locks appeared behind the others. “Who thought we would meet again so quickly!” Isaac beamed up and immediately bent down to help him collect his books. “Thanks”, Stiles mumbled a little bit confused as to why Isaac was with the group of ass-wolves. “Today’s not your day, hm?” Stiles answered with a crooked smile and nodded slightly. “I don’t think any day is Stilinski’s day”, Erica mused, her long fingers playing with a strained of her hair, lips pursed mockingly. Stiles got up and took the rest of the books from Isaacs hands, Scott and Allison finally stepping down behind of him.

“Erica.” The black guy gave her a stern look and Stiles would have laughed at how the smirk almost immediately melted from her face if the wolf in front of him was not glaring at him again. “Isaac”, he growled without looking at the young blonde, his eyes piercing down on Stiles. “How do you know that lowlife of a human?” In his mind Stiles threw his books in his arrogant face, making clear that he would not let himself be called lowlife two times in a row, especially not by an obnoxious stranger who knew shit about him. But outside of his head, all he managed was to clench his teeth and take a small step in the direction where he felt his best friend.

“We met in the hallway today and I helped him with his stuff, why?” Isaac seemed oblivious of the growl that built in the tall guys’ throat. “You know that nothing good comes from interacting with lowlifes like him”, he barked and Stiles mentally slapped him in the face. The big guy let out a contemptuous snort in Stiles direction and leaned forward, his face stopping only inches from Stiles’. “You better never show your face in front of me again. Got that, _human_.” Stiles shuddered at the last word being almost spit into his face, his eyes shutting close on reflex. He felt the group of people leave, clothes rustling in the passing.

“Stiles… you okay?” Scott asked carefully, a hand weighing down on Stiles shoulders as if to steady him. And it helped. Stiles let go of the breath he noticed he had held and turned around, his face pales than his usual light color. “What the fuck did I do to deserve this?” he whimpered, running a hand over his face. Scott just sighed compassionately. “I think that was Derek Hale…” Allison threw in, her eyes following the group of people as they disappear around a corner. Stiles jolts, his head swirling around, trying to desperately to steal another glance at the tall guy. He knew Derek Hale. Not personally, but he had read a lot about him and his family in his fathers files.

The Hale house in the woods of the Beacon Hill Preserve had burned down when he was 12 and everyone besides two of the kids, Derek and Cora Hale, burnt to death. Cora Hale had been found covered in mud and ashes a few meters from her burning home, Derek Hale had only appeared the next day when he picked up his sister in the hospital where she was kept for supervision. In the files it said the fire was no accident, but someone had set the fire on purpose. With the whole family trapped inside. Stiles stomach turned just remembering the photos, his father was never allowed to know he saw. Up until High School the Hales had been nothing but a horrifying, dark legend to him, but Stiles remembered seeing Cora Hale walking across campus during his second year. Rumors spread fast and after a few guys tried to pick on her, circling her in the bathroom, she wolfed out and instantly became a celebrity throughout town.

It was soon common knowledge that the Hales were no normal human beings and with their secret spread in the open, more and more people throughout town confessed to being of the other kind. Some begging the wolves to make them one of their kind, like Erica – who hadn’t always been the cynical, evil person she was now. She had been an unnoticed, normal human just like Stiles, only less chatty and lacking the optimistic self esteem Stiles held. Rumors had it was Derek Hale who presented her the bite, who took her in and made her a new person – a worse one, if anyone were to ask Stiles. Not that anyone did.

“You know what?” Stiles eyed his friends, gritting his teeth. And added after a carefully placed second of silence “Derek Hale scares the shit out of me.” Allison looked at him with wide eyes, visibly confused. Scott just broke into laughter and patted his back. “I totally get you. He’s one scary dude…” Allison soon followed with smooth giggles, shaking her head while pushing the boys further down the stairs. “Just avoid him from now on. I mean” Scott shrugged his shoulders. “…how hard can it be? It’s not like you guys have any classes together.” Allison nodded in agreement. “Yeah, Scott’s right. He surely is already in his post-grad studies… if you avoid rushing around corners and walk the halls a bit more carefully things should be fine.” And Stiles agreed. Things should work out fine. He was in College after all and even though some of his burdens from High School seemed to haunt him still, there was enough space – and enough people who didn’t already think the worst of him – to actually enjoy his coming years.

They had sat down on a bench in front of the library and Stiles had amazed the Allison with his amazing skills as a mentalist - okay, most of the time Scott pretty obviously gave him hints, but still – and made a contest of who created the highest building with their books until the sun sank behind the big trees behind the gym. “Guess we should get going. I want to take a quick shower before we’re heading for dinner.” Scott said and pushed himself off the bench. Stiles looked up at him from the spot in front of the bench where he had made himself comfortable on the grass. “Good idea, I guess. You guys wanna meet again here in like an hour?” he suggested. Allison lifted an eyebrow. “Why not meet in the canteen?” “Well…” Stiles was trying to buy some time, but Scott just knew him too well. “You have no idea where the canteen is, huh?” he asked, a smile spreading on his face. Stiles laughed. “Well… yeah.” “And you already shredded your map.” Stiles offered a wry smile as an answer. Allison let out a disbelieving huff, which would have hurt Stiles pride a little if she wasn’t also smiling at him affectionately. “Alright. Meeting here. In an hour.” And that said the couple was leaving in direction of their dorm, while Stiles got up from the floor, patting some dirt from his jeans before heading back to his building.

Nine flights of stairs later, Stiles once again held his aching side as he opened the door and registered the muffled sound of water coming from the bathroom. So much for his plan to take a dump.   
He put down the books on his nightstand and sat down on the soft mattress next to his bags. The bed in front of him was in an even bigger mess than before, clothes lazily plastered all over. Stiles couldn’t resist and pushed himself up again, curiously leaning over the pile of colorless fabric and holding up a black T-shirt. From the size of it his roommate must be either taller, fatter or simply better built than him. Or maybe a mixture of the three, he thought though soon after he gives up the ‘fatter’ when his fingers found the grey jeans next. “Skinny…” Stiles mumbled and lifted a curious eyebrow when his eyes spotted a pair of black underpants. He lifts them up and stretches them a little, pushing his lower lip forward in admiration. These shorts were definitely expensive and, as Stiles had to admit, pretty stylish with its small almost invisible striped pattern on it. Maybe his roommate wasn’t such a loser after all. He most definitely needed to ask him where he could get some underwear like this, too, to get a bit more ‘adult feeling’ into his collection of mainly shorts with some superhero banner on it. Of course his shorts were more than just awesome. But if he wanted to get laid some time soon, Stiles knew he had to make compromises. And those black shorts in his hand looked not only stylish, but comfortable.

“Hands. Off.” Stiles jerked at the growl from behind him and only then noticed that the sound of water had stopped, a cloud of warm air spreading through the room. He swallowed hard and prepared to explain why he had both of his arms in his roommates underwear by now, pulling on the fabric, testing its flexibility. Feeling the blood rush to his face, Stiles turned around only to turn pale white again in an instant. He flapped his mouth open and close a couple of times, unable to find the words or even breath. “I said. Hands. Off.” Derek repeated with eyes flickering in a terrifying crimson. Stiles frantically tried to free his hands off the werewolf’s underwear, moving his hands wildly until he almost lost balance. “I’m sorry” he repeated shakily. “Really, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know… I… I really didn’t want to…” His words were cut off by a low growl that bubbled in Derek’s throat when the older one stepped closer. “Out. Now.”, he spit out, eyes glaring down on Stile’s pale face. “Roommate!” Stiles suddenly bursts out, lifting his arms as if to defend himself against any sudden attack from the wolf. “Roommate!”

Derek’s eyes widened in disbelief and before Stiles knew what was happening he found himself in a tight grip, his feet dangling a few centimeters above the floor. “What did you say?” he heard Derek hiss and gulped. “R-Roommate. I’m… I’m your new roommate.” Stiles was sure Derek would just throw him out the window. Goodbye world, you’ll never know the awesomeness that was Stiles. But to his surprise Derek put him down – or more threw him onto his bed and into his bags, books falling off the sideboard. Derek stared down at him in open disgust, breath hitched, eyes nothing more than small crimson slits. After what seemed like an eternity, he blinked away the red in his eyes and turned his back to Stiles, a loud groan escaping his lips.

“You got to be kidding me…”


	3. Reasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Friday and Monday will be super busy with work and over the weekend I'm going to my parents home to celebrate my grandma's 80th birthday I might not be able to update for quite a couple of days.... but to make up for longer waiting time I will try my best to slip some skinship into the next chapter :P Promise.  
> But for now: Hope you enjoy!

“Seriously? _That_ Derek Hale is your roommate?” Scott gave him a pitying hug. “So much for ‘Just avoid him’. Dude, god must really hate you…”   
Stiles snorted. “Well thank you. As if I hadn’t noticed up until now…” He really must have done something incredibly bad in his last life for always ending up screwed, no matter what he did or where he went. Living with Derek Hale surely was bad enough in itself, but having been caught wrapped up in his underwear – worst start as roommates _ever_. Stiles pouted and rubbed his right hand over his chest, where Derek’s arm had impacted when he had pushed – thrown! Stiles brain corrected – him against the wall next to his bed, several threats flowing through his bared teeth. Okay, so maybe Stiles’ heart had skipped a beat when his eyes had taken the opportunity to steal a glance at Derek’s naked body with nothing but a towel wrapped around his surprisingly slender hips. And maybe he had made things even worse when his mind drifted off, thinking about how the skin over Derek’s collarbone might taste like … But Derek was so totally out of line to get all physical, callng him a ‘creep’.

“He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?” Stiles buried his head in his hands and bent forward until the tabletop impacted on his knuckles. Allison patted his back in what was probably meant to be an encouraging manner. “Come on, Stiles, you don’t know. Maybe he’s not that bad when you get to know each other better?” To express what he thought about this, Stiles banged his head against the table a couple of times until Scott pulled him up by the shoulders. “Allison’s right… maybe he’s a lot of fluff. ….Just covered in a lot of creepy, scary coating?” Stiles didn’t belief his friend actually just said this. Aloud. He dramatically gasped, his mouth open, searching for words, his hands gesturing into the direction of the canteen where Derek and his pack were seated – luckily far, far on the other end of the hall. “Does… _this_ … look anything like fluff to you?!” His voice shrieked. “ _Really_?” Stiles shook his head in disbelief before letting out a long stretched groan. “He’s gonna kill me… like with 18736% certainty!”

Obviously he hadn’t been able to enjoy his dinner. It had been hard enough actually to unravel the knot again that had formed in his testiness when Derek and his crew had made their walk through the canteen passing him and his friends without so much as a second glance. So yeah: Stiles really, _really_ didn’t feel like going back to his room. But when the clocks stroke eleven and he found himself all alone in the library, the gaunt lady sitting next to the exit behind the counter having told him six times already to get back to his room because she would like to lock up.

He let out a deep sigh and put down the book about the different usages of wolfsbane he had been studying the last few hours after Scott and Allison had been stupid dickheads and left him behind, knowing just perfectly how screwed and pitiful he was. He put the book back from where he got it, nodded the gaunt lady goodnight, scorning the way her eyes formally screamed ‘finally’ and made his way over the park-like greenery that filled the vast spaces between the buildings of the school, entering his dorm. Staring up the seemingly endless stair that wound its way up through the building, he let out a whine and with a pout adorning his face he slowly made his way up.

In front of his door he took a deep breath. “Please let him sleep already…” he whispered to himself. ‘Or not be there at all’, his brain added silently. He patted his shoulders as if to power himself up before going into the ring and slowly opened the door, his head entering first, carefully checking out the situation inside. To Stiles relief he didn’t spot any crimson eyes glaring him down and no big body ready to bounce on him from behind the door or some dark corner.

Slowly he slid his body inside and was just about to turn on the light, bathing in the happiness of Derek not being there, when he noticed the shadow moving slightly on the bed to his right. With a sigh he removed his fingers from the switch, stumbled out of his shoes and made his way through the dark until his toes hit something hard, making him hiss in pain.

For the 2849926th time in his life he hated the fact that even though he seemed to have were-blood running through his veins, neither did it provide him with super awesome night-vision nor with the incredible ability to heal immediately. Sure, supernatural strength would be kind of awesome, too, but with his kind of clumsiness he definitely was in need of the healing ability more than anything else… . And the book he just bumped into would definitely leave him with a blue toenail tomorrow. Just great.

As silently as possible he slid out of his shirt and pants and searched for his pajama in the bags that sat on his bed, still mostly unpacked thanks to Derek scaring the shit out of him a few hours before. Stiles’ fingers caught cool polyester fabric and he high-fived himself in his mind, when a low growling noise made him spin around, heart stopping for a second. He readied himself for being thrown into a wall again – okay. Maybe he exaggerated a little. Derek had just _pushed_ him against the wall, but he was still a dick. But after a seemingly endless five seconds he noticed that the big bad wolf in the bed opposite of him seemed to be growling in his sleep, body still heavy on the mattress, eyes twitching under their lids but still closed.

Swallowing hard, Stiles tried calming his pacing pulse while his eyes stayed on Derek’s sleeping face. And even if Stiles would never ever admit it out loud: With the pale moonlight dancing on Derek’s long, dark lashes, his long nose twitching at whatever he saw in his dreams and his lips slightly parted, the tall guy in front of him couldn’t be described as anything else but mortifyingly beautiful.

Seemingly having lost all the fear that had bound his movements just moments before, Stiles took a few shy steps forward and suddenly had a very hard time to not run his fingers through the fluffy looking, short black hair that hang over the older man’s temples. Stiles held back a whistle when Derek moved slightly and the blanket that had been tugged around his shoulders slipped down his upper body and revealed a well trained chest, bulking above what most girls would define as ‘chocolate abs’ – at least it was exactly what he had imagined whenever Lydia used the expression while Jackson had tried hard to convince her that _he_ was the perfect exhibit for the term.

‘No Jackson,’ Stiles pursed his lips in admiration at what he saw in front of him right now. ‘your abs can suck ball compared to _this_.’

After his sane side won the argument against his instinct about whether to check if Derek was in fact completely naked under his blanket or wore the underwear he had admired before – the images building in his head definitely making him question his sexuality – Stiles tore himself from Derek’s side and quickly slid his bags under his bed, leaving a short note to himself to unpack tomorrow afternoon when the werewolf hopefully was out chasing some rabbits or whatever he did to kill some time. He looked at the pajama in his hand, red plaid shimmering slightly in the sparse moonlight shining through the window.

He huffed out a sigh, his eyes wandering back over his shoulders to Mr. Muscle behind him, and tossed the top under his bed to his other stuff while putting on the bottoms. Compared to his roommate his body built was just pathetic, he knew that even without looking down at his skinny torso.

Sure, he had been in the Lacrosse team for years and made several attempt to pump himself up in the gym, but it seemed as if his body simply resented any visible amount of muscle. Stiles tensed the muscles in his arms and stared at them for a second, then looked back at Derek, let out a sigh and climbed into bed preparing for sleep. But whenever he was about to drift off into sleep, growls or cryptic mumbles from Derek pulled him right back. “Gosh, what the hell is that guy dreaming off?” he groaned in his pillow after checking the clock on Derek’s nightstand showing 3.24am. “Just let me sleep, goddamnit!” he whined into the werewolf’s general direction, almost peeing his pants when said one replied with a loud snarl.

 

“You look like someone chewed on you ten times and then spit you out”, Jackson grinned and sat down opposite of Stiles, next to Lydia who peeled the paper from her blueberry chocolate muffin. “Good morning to you, too, asshole.”, Stiles grumbled and rubbed his palms over his face in a weak attempt to wipe away the dark beneath his eyes. “I wanna see how _you_ are able to get any rest when your doom is lying in the bed right next to you!”

Jackson just answered with a snort and took a bite from his sandwich. “What?” he smacked, his eyes obviously laughing at Stiles. “Don’t like your roommate?” Stiles spiritless poked the fried eggs on his plate. “I’m sure you, too, wouldn’t enjoy living with Derek frickin Hale…” he grunted and to his surprise the smirk on Jacksons face froze for a second, his eyes showing almost something similar to compassion for poor Stiles situation. “Y-You’re living with Derek Hale?”, Jackson asked after shaking off the slightly panicked look on his face. Stiles just nodded heavily, and Jackson, who normally would have made a feast out of Stiles’ misery, just nodded in silent agreement, spiritlessly stuffing his face with food.

Allison was the first to pick up the conversation again. “Come one, it’s not like he tried to eat you alive, right?” she tried the group, earning only a slow shake of Scotts head and a groan from Stiles. “Well… if it’s _Derek Hale_ I wouldn’t mind being swallowed whole.” Lydia threw in, gaining unbelieving stares from Scott, Allison and Stiles and shocked gasps from a Jackson who almost choked on his coffee. “What?” she lifted her eyebrows and purses her lips. “He’s _hot_! No one can deny that, right?”

Allison let out a stifled laugh, Scott rubbed his temples and Stiles was visibly amused by Jackson trying to find his breath again at this blow. “What the hell is supposed to be hot about that grumpy prick?” he shrieked, staring at his girlfriend as if he just told him she was six months pregnant with pink lollipops. “His abs.” Stiles found himself answer in unison with Lydia, which earned him freaked out looks not only from Jackson but also from Scott and Allison. Lydia just smirked at him while carefully taking a sip from her orange juice.

“Oh come on!” Stiles tried to defend himself, blood rushing to his cheeks coloring them a dark red. “You have to admit that he looks like a frickin underwear model!” Scott buried his face in his hands. Jackson looked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or throw up. “You’re jealous of his body _and you know it_.” Stiles finished his plea, eyes focusing Jackson accusingly, and stuffed his mouth with some more egg. Lydia nodded in agreement, Allison seemed to at least think about acknowledging that he was more than just right and after having cleaned his plate and washed the last bite down with some grapefruit juice Stiles’ face had cooled down again, returning to its original pale color.

“Guys, I gotta run.” Scott was the first one to push himself off the table “My kick off class is on the other end of campus. See you later?” And after giving Allison a short kiss and an encouraging nod for Stiles he picked up his tablet and disappeared in the crowd of students mingling between the tables. “We’re in the main building next, right?” Stiles asked Allison who luckily also had chosen history as major and hence shared at least the mandatory classes with him. “Yepp. Wanna leave already?” Stiles agreed – coming late and sitting in the front row was really the last thing missing to make his day one of the worst in his life – and quickly took the last sips of his juice, almost spilling half of it on his T-shirt in the process. “See ya.” He smiled at Lydia, who simply pulled her lips up as an answer, and received a “Hopefully not.” from Jackson.

 

When Stiles and Allison entered the lecture hall, Stiles let his eyes wander over the student that already were there, some standing on the side chatting with each other, others already sitting in the rear half of the room, ambitiously scanning the content pages of their books. Stiles couldn’t say per se but judging by their buff built or for Stiles’ taste too overflowing self-esteem he assumed a good half of them were werewolves. In the midst of all the people talking and laughing Stiles spotted a familiar looking blonde head and pulled Allison along.

Squeezing himself through two tall boys having a lively discussion about the cheesy portrayal of the supernatural in the media, Stiles stumbled into one of the rows of seats and let himself fall down onto the seat next to a boy about to pull out his books. “Hey there!” Stiles grinned.

Isaac turned around and smiled back, wrinkling his nose upon seeing the dark circles under Stiles eyes. “Dude, you look awful.2 Allison laughed and offered their new acquaintance her name as well as her hand which Isaac both accepted with a shy smile. “What happened? Didn’t get much sleep during your first night on campus?” Isaac picked up the topic again and Stiles leaned against his shoulder, pulling his face into a dramatically pitiful grimace. “Don’t get me started on it... I’m roommates with Derek Hale!”

Isaac’s eyes widened. “For real? They put you in the same room as Derek?” Stiles frowned, sitting up straight again and giving Isaac a proving look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” But before Isaac found the time to answer to his question, Stiles jumped from his seat. “Don’t tell me he really killed his last roommate!” The room turned silent for a second, all eyes on Stiles, before everyone returned to their own business. “What? No!” Isaac snorted. “Not kill. He just… well... didn’t get along with him too well and the guy changed rooms within less than two weeks.” Stiles let himself plop onto his seat again. “Now _that_ ’s comforting. I’m sure I’m hanging upside down out of our window, dangling from my intestines within the next few days or some shit like that…” Isaac bumped him in the shoulder, a smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

“Oh come on. Derek might seem really scary...” Stiles wildly signaled his agreement to that one. “.. but he’s actually a really nice guy.” And without being distracted by Stiles ignorant snarl, he added: “He has been through some shit which provided him with quite some trust issues when it comes to the human species. But really: Deep down he’s a warm and rather caring person.”

“See?” Allison smiled. “Fluff with creepy coating!”

Stiles groaned.

After Stiles had ventured his anger about Derek for about 10 minutes and the seats slowly filled with students, a dark haired girl suddenly joined their little group and pushed her bag onto the desk next to Isaac. “Hey”, the blonde boy greeted her and Stiles noticed a pale pink painting his cheeks. And just when Stiles thought that he agreed with Isaac, the girl was pretty cute, she leaned forward glancing at him an Allison, wrinkling her nose. “And who are those two losers?” she huffed scornfully.

Isaac cleared his throat and the introduction that followed explained everything for Stiles: “Stiles, Allison - this is Cora. Cora – Stiles and Allison.” He frowned and gave Isaac a dramatic look, mouth gaping open, hands wildly gesturing. “Cora?! Cora as in… Hale?!”, he huffed, silently complaining to God about the torture that was his life. The girl lifted an eyebrow and glanced over at him while putting her hair in a lose ponytail. “What? You’ve already heard about me?”, she asked, unsuccessfully trying to sound indifferent. Isaac pointed at him and simply offered a “Derek’s new roommate.” for explanation. And to Stiles surprise Cora’s face showed something pretty close to sympathy. She sighed pointedly. “Well, good luck with that… Derek can be a total ass.”   
Stiles only shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “Tell me about it…”

 

“How come Derek is such a prick?” Stiles leaned over Isaac and glanced at Cora when he couldn’t hold onto his curiosity anymore. Cora stopped copying the literature list the professor showed on the screen in the front of the lecture hall and gave Stiles an exasperated look. “He’s my brother okay.” Stiles shrugged, not really getting what this had to do with anything, so Allison took over on his behalf. “I think Stiles wants to know whether there’s a reason for his aversion to humans…”

“Well…” Cora started reluctantly. “It’s because of the fire… the one…” “…The one that killed your family.” Stiles finished for her, receiving an elbow in his rips as a response from Allison. “Be a little more sensitive! Gosh, Stiles!”, she hissed. And Stiles was shocked when even Isaac shook his head slightly, giving him a disappointed look. Cora cleared her throat and leaned a little closer to the group, which Stiles noticed made Isaac blush again. “Some people might still say it was an accident, but that’s bullshit. The fire was set intentionally by someone who wanted us gone, who wanted _werewolves_ gone.”

“How can you even know that?” Allison asked, obviously not as familiar with the case as Stiles was, so he interrupted whatever hurtful comment Cora was about to spit into Allison’s face. “The evidence was pretty clear. They found accelerant all over the place and the family was deliberately trapped inside, doors not only locked from the outside but also blocked by furniture.” Cora stared at him and if Stiles hadn’t known any better, he would have sworn she was kind of frightened by his broad knowledge about her family’s history. “How..?” she whispered and Stiles cut into her question with a shrug of his shoulders and a dopey smile. “Sherriff’s son.”

Allison frowned and pushed herself onto her desk and into Cora’s view. “But how do you know it wasn’t some rival werewolf family?” Cora froze for a few seconds, holding her breath before licking her lips and looking at them with a mixture of hurt and disgust. “Because my brother _knew_ the person that did this.”, she spit out. Stiles and Allison were both obviously shocked, their mouths flapping open, unsure how to react to the information. And as if accusing both of them of complicity, she snarled “That bitch _dated_ my brother for the sole reason of killing us off.”

Stiles felt his breakfast make its way up again. He remembered the files he had read, the pictures he had seen, the articles he had cut out of papers and magazines describing the incident and its horrifying background. How come he never had come across any information concerning Derek’s murderous girlfriend? Why had it never occurred in any of the files? None of the clippings?

He had to admit: If what Cora said was really true, it explained a lot – and he could sympathize much more with Derek having serious issues with trust now, than with who ever that maniac was that managed to burn down a house with several people trapped inside, fighting for their life.

“What…” he started after the first wave of nausea left him. “What happened to that girl?” Cora clenched her teeth and turned her eyes back to the front again, depriving him of any answer. And the look Stiles identified on Allison’s face told him that she, too, was too terrified to even think about what Cora’s silence might mean… .


	4. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, even though the update took so long there's no smut in this chapter nor any reveals concerning Stiles' were-blood... but I promise we get there soon!   
> I just really needed this chapter to get my pieces in position... and I hope sick!Derek counts as a small compensation somehow :)
> 
> Comments always welcome!

“Holy shit!” Stiles shrieked, when he noticed the dark shadow in the shower and almost spilled all over the tiled floor. It was two in the morning and he had gotten up to pee, stumbling his way through the room with only one of his eyes half open. He hadn’t really checked where Derek was when he got up, just assuming that he was silently sleeping in the bed on the other side of the room as usual. All in all they hadn’t been in contact too often since the awkward underwear story and Stiles was still kind of scared what might happen to him when his life got entangled with that of the alpha.

Derek hadn’t really done anything bad. He was broody and glared at Stiles when he came out of the bathroom after singing in the shower or even when he was just sitting at his desk or watching TV on his laptop or well… Derek glared at him pretty much every time they met, but the pushing-into-some-random-wall and growling-for-absolutely-no-reason-at-all had stopped after a few days and was replaced by Derek ignoring him most of the time – or at least trying his best to – which Stiles thought was a lot nicer than having to fear getting his throat ripped out someday.

Sure, Stiles was still walking on egg shells most of the time the two of them were in the same room, but he figured he could manage living with Derek Hale. And, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he kind of liked being able to see the soft, relaxed face of the werewolf when he slept. It kind of made him feel like he knew a side of Derek that no one else really knew. Derek still was scary as shit, Stiles wouldn’t argue with anyone about this, but sometimes when he saw the older one’s sleeping face he wondered whether maybe Derek really could be a nice guy as Isaac still claimed.

But even though both of them seemed to have found ways to cope with each other, the one thing Stiles simply couldn’t get used to was the werewolf appearing out of nowhere. Without any sound or warning. All. The. Time. And this time was worse then anything: Who scares the crap out of a person while he’s peeing? That was just so not cool.

“Dude, find the line! Really! Bathroom is off limits! Even you should have that much decency!” Stiles rambled, pulling up his boxers and flushing the toilet before he pulled back the shower curtain to jump Derek’s face. But just when Stiles had enough sleepy rage in his chest to finally spill all his dissatisfaction at the wolf’s face, his plans fell apart when he got a better glance at the person crouching in the corner: Derek looked even paler than usual, cold sweat on his forehead, eyes flickering. His lips were pressed tightly together, only the sharp tips of his teeth showing. He looked sick and feverish – a lot more pitiful than his usual scary.

“D-Derek?” Stiles asked in a huff, his hand slowly stretching forward tipping against the older one’s shoulder. “You… You okay?” The whimper that slipped from Derek’s throat was enough to melt any anger Stiles had ever felt and replaced it with a sour feeling of concern. He kneeled down and carefully turned Derek’s face into his direction, the black stubble scraping slightly against the soft skin on his fingers. “Derek? Can you hear me?”, he tried again, but Derek seemed to be totally out of it, his red eyes moving behind his half closed lids, seemingly unable to focus on one point.

Stiles frowned, trying to carefully pull Derek from the corner of the shower and bring him back to his bed, but the older one  let out a dissatisfied groan and leaned back against the tiles. “Derek, you won’t do yourself a favor sleeping here…” Stiles sighed, trying again – without success. The werewolf continuously pushed his body against the tiles, letting out a small huff at the feeling of the cold tile against the skin on his cheek. Stiles tried a few times to wake Derek up, get his attention or drag him back, but finally gave up and left Derek where he was. He walked back to his bed, laid down and curled up in his sheets. But after a few seconds of unsuccessfully trying to convince himself that Derek was none of his concern, Stiles let out a long sigh and got up again and pulled the sheets from the bed on the other side of the room, dragging it over to the bathroom where he pushed them over Derek’s huge body.

 

“Can it be that Derek is a somnambulist?” Stiles asked to Cora during their lecture two days later.

He had woken up the day after he found Derek in the shower and had found the sheets back on his bed. But when he met Derek on campus later on that day he looked as gloomy and grim as usual, ignoring Stiles as he strode by with Erica following him around like a puppy, which made Stiles huff in disgust. (Yeah, he didn’t like Erica. And seeing her prawn all over Derek? Gross. Really.)

And when he returned to their room after having practiced with Scott who had officially joined the lacrosse team the week before, there had been no trace of Derek. Stiles had pretended to read one of the articles for his lecture for almost two hours, but finally decided to not wonder any longer where his room mate was wandering around in the dark anymore and turned over switching off the dim light of his nightstand.

Cora lifted an eyebrow at Stiles question and glimpsed over her shoulder. “Why do you ask?” Stiles thought he could hear her voice shaking slightly. “Well…” he tried to think of a way to not sound too weirdly concerned – he wasn’t. Why should he care about a sick bastard like Derek Hale? – and cleared his throat.

“Spit it out!” Cora finally snapped after Stiles had opened his mouth several times only to shut it again, his face presenting a new grimace every time he did so. “Okay, okay…” he sighed. “It’s just that I found him sleeping in the shower the other night. And… well.. he didn’t seem to really be in his right mind and no matter how much I tried to convince him he just sticked to the tiles mumbling something…” Anticipating he stared at Cora who had held her breath listening only to let out a deep sigh. “Damnit. I thought he was finally done with that…” Stiles could hear her mumbling even though she already had turned to the front again.

“Hey, you haven’t answered my question!” he stated with just a hint of a whine in his voice, but Cora didn’t seem to make any amends to gift him with any more of her attention. Luckily, Isaad jumped into their little conversation – if one could even call it that. “Derek’s still sleepwalking?” he asked and Cora gave him a death glare through her dark lashes which the blonde didn’t even seem to notice. “Man, I thought he had finally coped with his attacks…” Stiles lifted both of his eyebrows, his full attention now on Isaac. “Attacks?”, he dug deeper. Isaac just nodded and ran a hand through his locks. “Yeah… since the fire… you… you know…” Stiles nodded enthusiastically hoping for Isaac to finally spill it. “Well… Derek was in a rather bad condition after the fire… first he didn’t sleep at all and when they finally got him to sleep, he woke up again screaming most of the time.”

Stiles could sympathize with the not-sleeping-thing… he had been the same after losing his mother. But while Stiles knew he himself had been quite a wimpy kid, it was hard to imagine Derek being weak and fragile. But having seen his own family die could make even the biggest werewolf could be broken….  “Normally he sleeps quite relaxed…” Stiles heard himself mumble and for some reason felt a bit stupid after doing so. But even if Isaac would have thought Stiles was a weird nut bag, he was too nice to comment on Stiles’ words directly but just nodded. “Yeah, after a few months everyone thought he had found a way to cope with the things he had seen and heard that night somehow…”

“He heard his parents scream for life while the flames ate at their skin!” Cora hissed, her face distorted with pain and disgust. “It’s only natural that he wasn’t able to forget that easily…” Isaac looked down, biting down on his lower lip as if he himself was being scolded. When he didn’t continue to tell Derek’s story, Cora picked up again turning around in her seat to face the two boys.

“Derek was able to sleep again, but he…disappeared every now and then. I found him in all kinds of places, outside in the garden, next to windows, in the corner of the bathroom, …” Now that sounded familiar. “… and when I found him sitting in front of the open refrigerator I finally figured out that he was looking for places that were” “…cool.” Stiles finished her sentence. Cora nodded with sadness in her eyes. “Yeah. It seems like he dreams about the fire still. And when he does, he gets some kind of weird panic attack… his body heats up and it gets harder for him to breath…”

Stiles chewed on his lips, his mind putting together every piece of information. “So he’s unconsciously searching for cool places…?” Cora and Isaac nodded, both obviously having had found Derek before. “He _did_ look like he had some kind of fever… but” Stiles tilted his head slightly. “But why didn’t he come to when I tried to get him back into bed?”

Isaac absently looked to the front of the lecture hall where the teacher explained about the witch hunt and the first appearances of werewolves. “He isn’t really himself when he’s having an attack. He’s moving and speaking and sometimes even looking directly at you…” Isaac seemed to really care about the older werewolf, Stiles could tell from the low pressed tone of his voice. “…but when he’s awake again he doesn’t remember at all.” Cora nodded and Stiles could see her hand reaching beneath their desks, finding a rest on Isaac’s knee which made the blonde next to him give a small smile in return. “It’s his inner wolf acting, I think, trying to save him when Derek’s human conscious self is unable or unwilling to do so.”

Stiles nodded, not sure what to say at first. “So…” he finally started. “So what do you think I as his room mate should do when I find him like that?” The two werewolves looked at him, Isaac looking a bit helpless while Cora pulled back her hand from Isaac’s knee and ran it through her hair. “Just don’t do anything.”, she offered as advice. “Just let him be. And don’t talk to him about it. He doesn’t like being seen in that state.” This made Stiles turn pale a little, remembering how he had put the sheets on Derek – a clear sign of him knowing about his sleepwalk. “So... him knowing I know is a bad thing?”

Cora’s eyes turned dark. “If I were you, I wouldn’t push my luck. You don’t know what Derek’s capable of!” Stiles laughed awkwardly. “Oh I have a lively imagination…”

 

Stiles remember Cora’s words when he found Derek again in the dark bathrooms about a week later. The werewolf looked even paler then the last time and his breath was hitched. Stiles wanted to ignore him and go back to sleep, just as Cora had advised him. But no matter how much he tried, his mind just didn’t shut up, every single thought circling around the pitiful creatures sitting in the cold bathroom.

So Derek woke up to another blanket clumsily wrapped around his body and a snoring Stiles wrapped up in his own sheets leaning against the bathroom cabinet next to the shower. Stiles on the other hand woke up with a big hand wrapped in his T-shirt and hot angry breath on his face.

“What the…?” he mumbled confused, rubbing the sleep from his eye while trying to free himself from Derek’s grip. The older one glared down at him, lips pressed together angrily. “What do you thin you’re doing?” the werewolf hissed. Stiles yawned and patted the other’s shoulder a sarcastic smile on his lips. “Thank you, dear Stiles, for being such a wonderful being to care about my well being even though I’m always such a dick. You’re perfect and handsome and I am so lucky to have you as a room mate.”

Derek answered Stiles poor imitation of his voice with a loud growl and a slight shake of his hand which made Stiles move a little closer to him. “What?” Stiles groaned, obviously not in the mood to take shit so early in the morning. “I was just being _nice_.” Derek pulled him closer until Stiles could feel his breath tingle on his skin. “I don’t need a filthy human like you to be nice to me.”, the older one spit out. “If you see me – no matter where and when – just leave me be, okay”

And with this said Derek let go of Stiles and turned around, leaving the younger one sitting on the floor without as much as a chance to say anything back. “Fine…” he muttered to himself, his mood gone for the day. “The next time I hope you freeze to death!” He took back anything nice he had thought about Derek. He was a dick. A stupid, unfriendly, ignorant piece of shit. And Stiles would give a damn about him from now on, room mates or not.

 

And really: The next time Stiles found Derek sleepwalking again he ignored him. It might have taken him about an hour to fall asleep, but at least he had a pleasant morning with Derek being gone before he woke up again.

But when Derek came back into their room later that night Stiles glanced over his shoulder and noticed the older one didn’t look so good. And it didn’t even take two days until  Stiles found out for sure that even though werewolves might be able to heal even if every single one of their bones is broken and their guts are visible through open wounds they were just as prone to the common cold as humans (and half bloods) were.

“Dude, how about blowing your nose from time to time?”, Stiles asked annoyed when Derek had continued to sniff into his book for two hours straight. “It’s really hard to concentrate on my essay with you making all that unappetizing noises, ya know…” Derek just gave him a glare. But after a minute of silent protest he got up and pulled out a package of tissues from his night stand. Stiles gave himself an imaginary high five.

“You look like shit, you know.” Stiles couldn’t help but poke the dragon. And he knew he could count on Derek’s temper: The older got up from his desk and had Stiles pushed against the wall within seconds. Too fast it seemed, as the older one slightly stumbled, almost loosing grip on Stiles collar. “If you’re not feeling well just admit it and go to bed, damn it. Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” The answer was a low growl and a red-flashed glare from Derek’s side.

Stiles was pretty amazed with himself: Who knew that only a couple of weeks of living with Derek plus a few werewolves’ stories about the alpha actually being capable of being nice could make him so brave! But maybe it was also the poor state of the wolf in front of him that made his mind give green light for his mouth uttering snarky comments as it used to do before all the time.

“I told you before”, Derek huffed obviously struggling to keep his intimidating posture. “to leave me be. Mind you own damn business or I’ll rip out your throat.” Stiles sighed, swallowing down the bitter taste Derek’s threat left. “Too bad for you I’m a good person who can’t just ignore sick people. And you my dear friend definitely _are_ sick, so drop the bad wolf act.”

Derek obviously wanted to act on his threat but fortunately his health acted up and spared Stiles a very painful death. Stiles slung his fingers around Derek’s broad biceps and helped stabilizing the tall guy whose eyes started to turn loose focus. “You really shouldn’t move too fast, you know. You’re obviously coming up with a severe cold, so let’s better get you into bed.”

And with this being said Stiles ignored Derek’s protest and pushed him towards his bed. (And let’s face it: If Derek really would have fought him, Stiles wouldn’t have had a chance to move the older one as much as an inch, having a cold or not.) After sneering at Stiles a few more times and slapping away any helping hand in a poor act of resistance, Derek finally laid down and pulled the sheets over himself.

Stiles smiled at the sudden obedience of the werewolf and turned back to his essay. But after only a few more sentences he got up again and took a short look at Derek who tossed in his sheets, obviously having a hard time to feel comfortable enough to get any sleep. Listening to Derek’s coughs Stiles’ eyes lit up with an idea and he slipped out of the room only to return a few minutes later with a steaming cup in his hands.

Derek moaned when Stiles sat down on the edge of his bed, offering him the warm beverage in his hands. “What the hell is that?” the werewolf mumbled, still pushing himself up on his elbows. “It smells awful.” Stiles beamed up. “This, my dear sourwolf, is something that will definitely make you feel better tomorrow, an old Stilinski household remedy: Warm beer with honey!”

Derek’s eyes moved from the cup in Stiles hands to his face, apparently assuming Stiles wanted to slip him some weird drug. “I’m not drinking this shit.” he stated coldly, which made Stiles put on his best offended face he had to offer. “This shit? Dude, you obviously don’t know the wonders a Stilinski cough-beer can do!” And before Derek could say anything bad about the awesome name he had for the brew, he quickly added: “If you drink this I swear to you: You will feel like a new person tomorrow.”

It took another good ten minutes of Stiles advertising his warm beer before Derek finally gave in – probably more desperate to get Stiles to shut up than actually believing in the magical powers of the Stilinski household remedy. He drank half of the beer with one big gulp and grimaced at the taste. “I swear to god, Stiles, if this doesn’t help you’re dead.”, he hissed and Stiles felt his stupid heart flutter at the fact that Derek for the first time ever had said his name.

When Derek had reluctantly emptied the rest of the cup, Stiles took it from his hands, put it down on the nightstand and gently pushed the older one back down into his bed. “Believe me in just a few seconds you’ll be fast asleep.” Derek gave a disbelieving snort but closed his eyes nonetheless. “You’ll heat up a bit, but that’ll help you get better.” Stiles explained with a gentle smile pulling on the corners of his mouth and carefully placed his hands on Derek’s forehead to feel his temperature.

To Stiles surprise Derek reacted not with an angry growl but a content sigh and leaned into the touch, which made Stiles heart flutter a little. Clearing his throat he tried to pull his hands back, but long fingers slung around his hands, stopping its movements after just a few millimeters. “Don’t.”, he heard Derek mumble sleepily. “It feels nice…” And Stiles would have been embarrassed if Derek had been actually awake as the rapid beating of his heart – stupid heart! – certainly was unable to be missed by werewolf hearing.

Reluctantly Stiles placed his fingers back on Derek’s heating skin, earning a content hum in return, that made his cheeks burn. It was just unfair that the guy in front of him could look so cute despite the awful personality he usually displayed. As even after a few minutes had passed and Derek’s breath had turned low and steady the wolf did not let go of his hand, Stiles tried his best to find a somewhat comfortable position eventually opting for a sitting posture, his head resting on the mattress next to Derek’s from where he watched the older ones sleeping face until he, too, finally fell asleep.

The next morning, when Stiles woke up Derek was gone again. Stiles got up and tried to get some life back into his numb legs, trying to ignore the false sense of disappointment. It’s not that he had actually hoped to get an actual “Thank you” or anything, but… just being left like that after even spending the night sleeping next to Derek’s bed, Stiles felt a little hurt. He should have known better… .

It was only later in the cafeteria that Stiles caught a glimpse at Derek again. And just when he was about to punish Derek with cold ignorance, the group of werewolves walked past them and Derek for the first time looked at him directly, the corner of his lips pulled up just enough to give a hint of a smile when he let a husky “Good morning” slip.

Stiles was too surprised, too stupidly proud and happy to be able to react to his friends shocked expressions and eager questions. Maybe, just maybe Derek wasn’t a full blooded jerk after all, he thought to himself with a dopey grin on his face while stuffing his face with a sandwich.


	5. Hurt Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter done - this one might have to hold you guys for several days again as I won't have much time to write the rest of the week. Hope you enjoy it!

Scott almost choked on his orange juice when he heard Derek greet his bet friend. Allison forgot all about the archery club she had joined the day before and couldn’t stop telling everyone about how awesome it was and how she had beat one of the master students and long-term members easily in a show off during her trial day. “Did… Did Derek Hale just greet you?” Lydia whispered admiringly while Jackson seemed to have been put on halt, his jaw hanging open, granting direct view at what was left of the bread he had happily chewed on just seconds before.

“I... think so?” Stiles grinned happily and took another bite from his sandwich. Who knew that getting a simple greeting from a well-known unfriendly prick could feel so damn good? “How the hell did you manage to get him to be nice to you?” Allison asked with a disbelieving expression on her face. “Yeah, dude”, Scott jumped in after finally having caught his breath again. “did you mix him something in his drink or what?”

Jackson rolled his eyes, finally having snapped back to reality and sadly having returned to be the cynical asshole he was. “Yeah, I’m sure Stilinski slipped him some friendly-pills he bought from some shady guy in a back alley… Get your ass out of your ass, McCall!” Stiles leaned back in his seat and grinned widely. “Oh Jackson, you don’t need to be jealous that you’re just a stupid omega unable to make any friends in school.” Allison smirked not so subtly into her drink while Lydia tried to look offended for her boyfriend, before she candidly gave a damn about it.

“Jealous?” Jackson shrieked, almost throwing his knife at the smirking boy in front of him. “Of whom? You?!” He snorted scornfully. “Believe me, Stilinski, even if you had tons of alpha-friends around you, owned in a castle made of gold and your shit smelled like lilies I wouldn’t want to be you!” 

Stiles brushed him off. “Yeah, handling as much awesome as I am maybe really would be too much for a fragile character as you are… we don’t want you to get any more narcissistic, do we?”

A few more snarky comments were exchanged before Jackson finally gave up, pushed his seat back and left the group with angry stomps, Lydia following him obediently while giving Stiles an acknowledging wink. That alone would have been enough to make this morning one of the best he ever had, but Derek’s greeting – and the smile! Stiles definitely was hooked on that faint smile – topped just everything there was.

“What the hell was that this morning?” Stiles almost fell from his chair when Cora suddenly fell into the seat next to him. She threw her hair back and pursed her lips, studying Stiles’ face as if she tried to read his thoughts. “Wha-?!” he stuttered confused and flailed his ball pen in her general direction. “You’re not in this seminar?!” 

Cora waved him off. “As if anyone gave a shit about who’s in the seminar… Now spill it: What happened between you and my brother?” Stiles didn’t really know how to answer this question, because really: What _had_ happened? All he had done was providing a sick person in need a warm beer…. Not that he hadn’t hoped things between him and his roommate would lighten up sooner or later, but that his efforts would pay off that early even came as a happy surprise to him. 

“You didn’t slip him some weird drug, did you?” Cora looked at him suspiciously and Stiles threw his hands in the air. “Why the hell does everyone seem to think people can only be nice to me if they’re on some weird drug?!” Cora snorted. “Not ‘people’, Stiles. We’re talking about my brother here… don’t get me wrong I love him and all, but he is not nice to people he doesn’t know very well. Especially not humans, as you should know by now, too.” 

Stiles let out a huff and folded his arms in front of his chest. “Well, no way I could have missed that…” Cora lifted an eyebrow signaling him to speed up his talk – something that made Stiles a little happy as he hardly ever got encouragement, most people were more than desperate to get him to shut up instead. But at the same time he was at a loss about what to actually tell her….

“I didn’t do anything weird, okay? He was sick and I helped him get better, that’s all.” Cora eyed him disbelievingly and tipped her finger on his desk. “Don’t give me shit, Stiles. There must be more going on, so spill it.” And Stiles simply gave up. “Nothing, okay? I was just being a normal good roommate and… it seems he finally got that not _everyone_ human is a psycho who wants to kill him and his whole race!” This gave him a grim look from Cora before she spit out a “Alright, if _you_ don’t want to tell me anything, I guess I’ll have to ask Derek himself.” and left the room, ignoring Stiles’ frustrated moan as well as the lecturer who almost got run over by her on his way in.

Stiles was wondering how Derek would explain his sudden change in attitude to Cora when his attention was caught by the title of one of the slides the lecturer presented in the front of the room. ‘Half-bloods and World War II’ it said in big letters on the top. Stiles had heard before about half-bloods having been used as weapons during wars, his father had told him the stories more than just once to make sure his son would never be as stupid as to reveal his true form to others. 

So there was practically no new information for him when the lean man in the front told the class the basic information about half-blooded werewolves: 

How they were almost as rare as True Alphas, as about two third of the kids between a werewolf and a human would turn out as werewolves and the other third almost completely as humans. Only as much as one percent would turn out as mixtures of both races – Stiles flinched when the lecturer used the word ‘bastard’. He had always hated that word. – and they were feared creatures, as they were said to be unable to control their inner wolf.

Stiles could only roll his eyes at that “ _fact_ ” as they called it. After all he himself was living proof that half-bloods were quite able to control themselves. No sleep-over at Scotts’ or blood rushing anger at being treated like shit from most of his class mates had ever made him lose control. Sometimes he could feel the fangs trying to expand or see his eyes flicker, but he was always able to keep his true form hidden as long as he just concentrated on not turning. 

So when the lecturer continued to tell the tales of the Second World War and how two half-bloods had been going berserk, perpetrating several massacres in the enemies territory, Stiles was more than sure that it was not the half-bloods and their inability to control their true form who committed the murder, but the troops behind them most likely having used some drugs or whatever on them to make them lose their mind. But the stories seemed to stick, all of the other students nodding their approval as they, too, probably all had heard of them in school before. It made Stiles angry to think that this was considered common knowledge by now.

“There is no actual proof that it were half-bloods that were the perpetrators in those killings, is there?” Stiles interrupted the not very lively discussion that followed the presentation. “To be frank, there’s not even enough proof to say with certainty how many _werewolves_ existed at that time, so considering that even less is known about the existence of half-bloods it seems pretty reißerisch to present these _tales_ as if they were factual truth…” 

For a split second Stiles thought he had seen the lecturers eyes light up, but then the lean man in the front visibly clenched his teeth. The topic maybe in his opinion was too socially sensitive to actually be able to challenge the common view without getting in trouble. And he obviously didn’t know Stiles was the master of getting himself in trouble, after all he had years of experience. 

“Mr… Stilinski, correct?” Stiles nodded firmly. “I see you are sympathizing with the poor creatures the half-bloods are, but even if there is not much written in the official books one can’t deny their blood thirst during that time of unrest.” Stiles gave a scornful snort as an answer – obviously the lecturer wanted to strangle him for that. “Blood thirst? Even if we assume that there actually _were_ half-bloods involved in the war, how can you put all blame on them? That’s just _unfair_ and… _bullshit_. I’m sure _they_ weren’t the ones to start the war? And who says they lost control because they’re _half-bloods_ – and were not _made_ to lose it by very sane and full-blooded humans and werewolves?” 

Noticing how his classmates’ faces turned darker, Stiles cleared his throat. “I just mean that in my opinion there’s not enough proof to actually support these very incriminating statements.” Luckily for him the bell rang signaling the seminar was over and the students started to pack up their stuff and hurry to get some coffee before the next lecture or seminar begun. Before Stiles had his books stuffed in his bag, the lecturer came up to him putting a thin book on top of his notebook. 

“If you’re so interested and well read in the topic, maybe you could write an essay about half-bloods? It might be easier to write about it than openly start a discussion, don’t you think?” Stiles accepted the hinted apology – after all the lecturer hadn’t shut him down or expelled him from his seminar for challenging his presentation. It just wasn’t very welcomed to talk about the topic in general. 

No matter how much people were taught about history, the one thing that seemingly never changed was the fear of things not well known, expressing itself in nationalism, racism, anti-Semitism or in this case incrimination of a not well know mixed species. But Stiles would happily make use of his research skills to at least try and make a small difference. It wasn’t as if he had to reveal his true self… so writing one of his papers about the topic wouldn’t break the promise to his father. “Thanks.”, Stiles smiled challengingly and got up to change rooms. “I’ll think about it.”

The rest of the day went without further incidents, so Stiles let himself be distracted by the memory of Derek’s faint smile again. He wondered what it would look like if those small lips would curl up in a real smile and started to draw little Dereks in his notebook, but due to his rather poor drawing skills they all looked more like creepy little demons who got eaten by their own huge, grinning mouths. And as his doodling didn’t really serve the initial purpose, he started drawing fluffy tails and cute wolf ears to the crooked figures to at least contribute to his amusement. 

Scott had waited for him after the first two seminars to go and eat dinner together and listened to Stiles’ tale about him heroically saving the whiny sick werewolf that was his roommate by preparing one of the most difficult breweries there were (okay. It was just warm beer with honey. But still, Stiles was awesome.). And after one more lecture Stiles found himself in the library looking for some books that contained information about half-bloods. He knew his father would greatly disagree with the idea of writing a paper about half-bloods, assuming it was too much danger for Stiles to get involved with this matter and have people maybe see a link between him and his engagement when it came to half-blood stories. But there was probably no one who knew more about the topic than he did and as he had already done research in the years before it was a good opportunity to easily get some credit points. 

He picked out two rather old and dusty books and booked them out of the system before strolling over the courtyard and up to his room. 

Derek must have skipped one of his lectures as Stiles heard the muffled sound of the shower when he pushed off his shoes and threw his bag on his bed. He picked the half empty bottle of water from his night stand, took a few big gulps and started his laptop sitting on the desk by the window. Waiting for the login screen to pop up he watched the already orange sun move behind some clouds. 

After the blue screen popped up, he typed in his password and sat down on his chair, opening his browser. He had researched quite a lot about half-bloods when his puberty had kicked in and his inner wolf had surfaced more often. But the link collection still contained not more than six websites. But Stiles knew that every internet search was a new chance to stumble over some information one had missed before, so he put up the search engine and typed in several keywords.

“What are you doing?” Stiles heard Derek’s husky voice behind him before he smelled the scent of coconut shampoo in the humid air. “Studying or Porn?” Derek leaned over his shoulder with a smirk on his lips, water dripping from his bangs onto Stiles’ T-shirt leaving small dark spots. 

“As if I could jerk off in piece, living with a werewolf who can basically hear and smell what I ate two weeks ago!” Stiles rolled hi eyes, trying to push back the heat that climbed up his cheeks. “I’m just doing some research.”

Derek messily dried his hair and pulled his shorts in place. People with a body like his should not be allowed to walk around wearing practically nothing – it was depressing for pretty much every living creature there was on this planet. “Research?”, the black haired asked and pushed back the screen of Stiles’ laptop a bit to get a better look at the results shown on the page. “And what are you researching about? … half-bloods?”

Derek’s eyes suddenly turned dark and he grabbed Stiles by his shoulder turning him around on his chair. “I _thought_ it was weird when Cora asked me all these questions about you…”, he gritted his teeth, looking about to rip Stiles’ head off. 

“I… really don’t know where you’re going with this, but…” But Stiles didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Derek had him by his collar again. He should have been used to it by now, but Stiles still felt his breath hitch at the sudden movement.

“Hands. Off. My. Sister.” Derek spit out, eyes shining blood-red in order to stress how serious he was about this matter. It took a second before Stiles brain had put the pieces together and his eyes turned wide. “What?!” he shrieked, not sure how the older one even came up with this weird idea. Yes, Cora was pretty, but she was a psycho! Okay, he had had a crush on Lydia for years and she probably was one of the worst psychos he knew, but Cora was a new league of psycho. The werewolf league. And she was Derek’s sister. So no. Definitely no!

“How the hell did you come up with that crazy idea?” Derek’s eyes wandered to the laptop screen and back to the boy in his grip again. “When I heard from Isaac that you guys share a lecture and sit next to each other I didn’t think much of it. But then she keeps pestering me to tell her about you and asks me what I think of you and then _this_ ”, his hand making a big movement towards the screen, almost smashing the computer in the process. “You better not plan on making a _bastard_ with my baby sister, you go that?”

Stiles pulled a shocked grimace and pushed Derek away. “Come again? How do you come from me researching for a paper to wanting to make sweet sweet love to Cora?” – Okay, he got why Derek would growl disgustedly at this one. – “And could you stop calling half-bloods bastards? That’s just rude. And racist.” Derek snorted. “That’s not rude, just what they are.” 

And with this Stiles forgot all about him assumingly having the hots for Cora and jumped head first into this argument: “A bastard is what _you_ are, you stupid little prick!!” 

To Stiles surprise Derek was speechless for a second – most probably no one had talked to him like that since he became an alpha. “What did you just say?” he hissed when he finally found his words again, staring disbelievingly at Stiles through narrow eyes. But Stiles felt the blood rush to his head, making him forget any fear he ever had. “How can you talk shit like that? Have you even _met_ a half-blood before?” Derek let a growl rumble in his throat. 

“ _What_?” he asked cynically. “Have you?” Stiles heart stopped beating for a second before he stumbled over his words, trying to not put weird ideas into the werewolf’s head. “N-No? But I’m sure they’re someone’s beloved kid, too. And just because they have mixed blood doesn’t make them lesser beings than any of the full blooded races. I thought ideas like this was finally dying out after slavery and the Second World War.” 

Derek looked like he wanted to rip out Stiles’ throat for real this time and the younger one just went for the kill. “Racism always is born from fear. From stupid people fearing whoever is different, whoever they can blame for their own short comings. You’re not better then any of the people in the past! You’re scared of half-bloods because you don’t know what they’re like! Because you’re scared of what they’re capable of you put them down by calling them names and treat them like a sickness!”

“Scared?”, Derek finally cut in on Stiles’ ramble. “Scared?! As if! They’re accidents, disfigured creatures, unable to be neither human nor werewolf, born from misguided people blinded by fleeting attraction. They’re threats for the safety of society by their lack of control over their superior side. They’re…” Derek suddenly was cut off by Stiles’ flat hand impacting on his face forcing it to twist sideways slightly. Both of them froze for a second, not fully able to understand what just happened.

Stiles was the first one to snap back to reality, jumping up from his chair and racing out of their room, down the stairs as fast as he could. He knew that if Derek was going after him, he had no chance to escape no matter how fast he ran – Derek being a werewolf and all. But to his surprise he reached the first floor without any panting black animal jumping his back and biting off his neck. So he slowed down when he left the building, hiding on the bench behind the library.

He was dead. He was _so_ dead. No way Derek would let this just slip. Stiles would die in the tender age of eighteen. His father would mourn in front of a gravestone saying ‘Stiles. Stupid guy who bitch-slapped the alpha.”

Too scared of going back, Stiles stayed on the bench for a couple of hours, the sky already having turned dark and his body shaking slightly. It was spring and the days warm enough to leave the house in a T-shirt, but the evenings still grew cold. Colder than Stiles liked right now. He pulled his legs close to his body and laid his head on his knees, a deep sigh leaving his throat. “Maybe I really _do_ have no control at times…” he whined silently, hating himself a bit. 

But he hadn’t been wrong. Derek had been. It wasn’t that Stiles had never heard all those hackneyed phrases before… almost all of the people talked like that. And because half-bloods still seemed to be very few in numbers and those who actually existed most probably hid their true form just like Stiles, no one really challenged those tales. But hearing it directly from Derek like this? For some reason it had made his mind go blank with anger, unable to hold back….

Stiles felt a little bit guilty for hiding. He bitch slapped Derek for talking bad about half-bloods, but was he really that much better? He himself kept who he was hidden after all… and to be frank, sometimes he, too, was scared of what abilities might be hidden inside of him. Maybe somewhere deep within he was afraid of going berserk someday just as the stories told: Going on rampage, unable to distinguish between friend and enemy, maybe even killing Scott or his Dad while doing so. Maybe, he, too, sometimes felt like he was ‘ _unfinished_ ’….

“Stiles?” a low voice suddenly tore him from his thoughts. He lifted his head and looked right at Derek standing in front of him, a black T-shirt stretching over his firm chest and grey jersey covering his legs. It took a second for Stiles to process the image before he let out a scared shriek and jumped back, falling off the bench in the process, hitting his head heavily on the ground. But instead of rubbing the aching spot, Stiles’ instinct told him to get up and run for his life. So he pulled himself up on all fours and opted for a jump start, but before he was even fully on his legs strong arms slung around him from behind.

“Chill out, Stiles…” Derek’s voice sounded different than usual: Lower, a little bit more hoarse and somehow pained. And Stiles really calmed down, his flailing arms coming to a halt. Both of them stayed like this for a second, probably both waiting for the other person to say something. It was Derek who finally broke the silence first. “You didn’t come back.”

Stiles was confused. Was this the Hale version of an apology? Or simply a statement of fact before ripping out his throat? Unsure of how to react to this, Stiles just swallowed hard, hands slowly sinking to his sides, hanging loosely over Derek’s bicep. “…you slapped me.”, the older one continued and Stiles rolled his eyes. “As if I would be able to forget about this….” The words slipped his mouth before he even knew it and being sure that it were snarky comments like this one that would kill him some day, Stiles pressed his eyes shut, waiting for Derek to finish what he came for. 

But to his surprise the older one loosened his grip on him, arms now loosely placed around his hips. The pressure on his skin was just strong enough to signal him to not make a run, but just stay there, listening to whatever Derek was about to tell him.

“…you want to tell me what exactly got you so upset?” Derek asked, his voice a little pressed which made Stiles nervous again. He could hardly come out and tell the werewolf that he got pissed because he was a half-blood himself and said one hence called him a bastard and basically denied his very existence before. 

“A half-blood…” 

Stiles held his breath. Did Derek find out? Had he been too obvious? He must have been. Wonderful job, Stiles, really, he thought to himself. He would be put in shags, getting drugged to freak out and be put on display so everyone’s awful stories would be rendered as the truth. Or Derek would just kill him right now right there in a very bloody and painful way. 

“…. You really _do_ know one, don’t you?” 

Stiles thoughts raced. Maybe he hadn’t blown his cover after all! He just needed to… “There was this half-blood girl I liked.” He heard himself lie before he even finished his trail of thought. Unsure about whether Derek ate his lie or not he slowly turned around, trying his best to keep his face in order and his heart beat steady. The werewolf stared at him for a few seconds, then he let out a deep sigh, pulling his hands back from where they still had held on to Stiles body.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did back then… It’s just that…” Derek sat down on the bench, his eyes fixating the dark ground below his naked feet. “…talks about bas-…half-bloods remind me of a girl, too.” Stiles awkwardly shifted on his feet, not sure how to handle a Derek who suddenly seemed almost talkative and about to open himself up to him. 

Or not, Stiles thought after he had been waiting for Derek to talk about that certain girl – most probably the one that screwed up his whole world by using him to kill off almost all of his family – for what seemed like an eternity. But the older one stayed silent, lost in thought while staring down at the ground.

“How about we both admit we acted a bit rash and get back up?” Stiles suggested after a few more minutes of silence. “To be frank, I’m super cold. … …and _really_ need to pee.” This seemingly got Derek’s attention as he lifted his head and looked at Stiles, one side of his mouth slightly pulled up. Not enough to call it a smile, but Stiles took it anyway. 

“Alright. Let’s go back in…”

Stiles’ eyes jerked open when he felt his mattress bent down to his right. And even before he could turn around to catch a glimpse of the intruder’s face he felt strong arms sling around his chest and hot breath tickling the skin on his neck. “D-Derek?” he whispered, breath hitched. “D-Derek… what..?” But the words got stuck in his throat when the werewolf pulled him close, his chest and hips pressed firmly against Stiles’ back. Stiles panicked slightly, playing out all reasons why Derek would crawl into his bed at night and for some reason he was sure the older one was about to make his usual threat –to rip out his throat. With his teeth. – come true. Probably belated revenge for the slap this afternoon. He would bite out his neck, slice open his chest, pull out his heart, eat his brain… Okay. Maybe not the last one, but Stiles was sure Derek was about to make sure Stiles could never again bitch-slap him like that.

But after a few seconds Stiles noticed that besides hot breath on the skin on his neck and long fingers clinging almost desperately to his torso, the werewolf didn’t do anything to him. No threats, no snarl, no bite, no crush of bones. Just warm breath sending shivers down his spine and making it hard for Stiles to keep the overwhelming, ticklish feeling in the depth of his stomach locked away.

“Derek... please don’t scare me like that…” Stiles whimpered, trying to wind himself out of the firm embrace. But all he managed to do was turn around enough below the others biceps as to look him right in the face. To his surprise, Derek seemed to be asleep, low breaths lifting his chest in a steady movement. His lashes twitched slightly as he pushed his chin towards Stiles, fangs pointedly sticking out between his lips. And suddenly all of the half-assed strength Stiles had put into getting out of Derek’s arms melted away, dissolving into electric sparks that set his nerves on fire. 

Derek Hale was lying right next to him in his bed. He was hugging him. And his face was so close to Stiles’ that with just a slight tilt of his head their lips would touch – not that he would ever think of doing so. (At least that’s what he tried to tell himself, even though his eyes had a hard time to pull away from the mesmerizing pale red of Derek’s lips.) Stiles noticed cold sweat on Derek’s forehead and on second thought his face was paler than usual.

Stiles frowned as Derek’s breath suddenly turned rugged. “Dreaming of the fire again, hm?” he whispered and pulled his hand free of Derek’s strong embrace in and moved them in an awkward motion between their entangled bodies. Carefully he let his fingers trace the older one’s jaw line before letting them rest on his temples, feeling the skin beneath the tips of his fingers burn up. He watched Derek’s lashes flicker, red eyes flashing up in the dark for a split second. Then the werewolf pulled himself closer to Stiles’ body again, a sigh rumbling in his throat. “… feels good…”

A dopey smile forming on his lips, Stiles found himself easing against Derek’s body pressed against his own, his face slowly burying in the crook of Derek’s neck while breathing in the incredibly addicting scent of the older one, musky but at the same time incredibly sweet. Alluring. 

Whatever the reason for Derek crawling into his bed was, he could live with it and where his heart at first had jumped with fear and maybe, just maybe had fluttered a little bit when taking in Derek’s face in the moonlight, it now turned a steady beat, adjusting to the rhythm of the werewolf’s. And when Derek’s fingers started slowly moving over his spine, Stiles couldn’t control the feeling bubbling up in him anymore. He felt the sweet scent pull at his nerves, clouding his mind, painting the back of his eyelids with bright yellow sparks. He could feel dull pain spreading through his jawbone, fangs eager to expand. 

And against his actual will he pulled himself closer to the heated body slung around his own, his breath unsteady and his heartbeat suddenly too fast for him to concentrate on anymore. Stiles knew he had to get away, he had to hide, to calm down. But his fingers dug deep into the skin on Derek’s back, as if he was holding on for dear life.


	6. Coming closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to add a DUB-CON WARNING here as people might argue that doing stuff while sleep-walking can not be counted as fully consensual.
> 
> So yeah, I'm sorry for making you wait for this chapter so long. I moved on to a different project at work and had to move to a new location and get used to the new department, etc. This hardly left any time to write more than a few sentences a day...  
> I tried to eliminate all traces of this chapter having been written in bits and bites, but I'm not sure whether I succeeded in creating a good overall flow. 
> 
> Well: I hope you enjoy this chapter :) And as always: Kudos and comments are highly appreciated!

When Stiles opened his eyes after the first night Derek had sneaked into his bed, it was still dark outside. He had fallen asleep, his head resting on the older one’s biceps and when he turned his head around, he looked directly into the other one’s sleeping face. Derek’s lips were parted slightly, his breath tingling on Stiles’ skin. He looked calm and gentle. Nothing like the gruff, angry wolf he had been when the two of them had first crossed ways.

It must have taken a few minutes of Stiles just staring at Derek before he remembered how critical his situation actually was and panic took over. Hastily he slipped out of Derek’s embrace and carefully climbed over the other one’s huge body, making his way to the bathroom. When the door closed silently behind him Stiles took a deep breath and turned on the light. Taking in his reflection in the mirror above the sink, Stiles let out a sigh of relieve: He looked normal. Human. No fangs, no yellow eyes anymore. And for a second he wondered whether he had just imagined things.

But even if his shift had maybe just been his mind playing a trick on him, Stiles knew he had to be more careful. Living together with a werewolf – an alpha on top of that – was riskier than he had admitted to himself until now. He had never had problems to control himself, but then again the only alpha he ever had been around was Scott. And as Scott above of being his best buddy from kindergarten on had turned due to being bitten, his inner wolf might have less effect on Stiles’ as a born wolf like Derek. And with the older one suddenly getting so close to him, an unwanted shift wouldn’t be a surprise. He had to be careful, a lot more careful, he decided.

When he heard muffled noises from behind the door, Stiles mind went into high-speed-mode. Derek had come to, he was about to wake up noticing he was lying in Stiles’ bed. This was the worst. There was no way he could explain Derek what had happened. Sure, Derek knew about his sleep-walking condition, but from what Stiles had learned from Cora, he didn’t remember anything that happened during his sleepwalks. So when Derek woke up in Stiles’ bed, he pretty sure would not believe that he had been snuggling up to his roommate whom he thought he just had gotten to an I-greet-you-when-we-meet-basis and certainly nothing more.

Stiles tried desperately to come up with a good explanation as to why Derek was waking up in another bed – and in _his_ on top of all. But when his mind was unable to find any explanation that sounded less implausible than Derek’s sudden need to cuddle, his mind when blank – and went genius.

Because for some unknown reason Stiles opened the door and stepped out, looking straight into Derek’s bewildered face and he quickly grimaced. “What the?!” his voice cracked nervously as he stared down at Derek in his bed. “Derek? What the hell are you doing in my bed?!” The werewolf blinked around in sleepy confusion before abruptly jumping out of Stiles’ sheets. “Dude, is that why you don’t have any roommates? Because you steal their beds when they’re taking a piss?”

Derek’s face first went pale, then bright red – which was incredibly cute, Stiles admitted to himself – and gasped for air. “No. I… I don’t…. I…?!” Stiles lifted an eyebrow and bit down a laugh. God he loved his evil mind sometimes. Seeing Derek so confused and desperate to find words was better than anything Stiles could imagine. (And the bed hair sticking up from the back of his hair was the cherry on top of it all.)

“Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen...” Stiles said generously and Derek let his palm run over his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “…Thanks… and… sorry…”

Two apologies from Derek freaking Hale in less than 24 hours?

Stiles really felt like on Cloud Nine now. Grateful that his tactic had worked out, Stiles pulled a pair of boxers and a T-shirt from his side of the cupboard and went back into the bathroom while Derek buried himself in his bed pretending to be right back to sleep.

Stiles took a long shower. In a school full of werewolves he hardly could walk around with Derek’s scent all over him. Even though pretty much no one besides his few closer friends normally cared about him enough to care about what he smelled like, the scent of one of the most famous alphas in the area on him would definitely draw people’s attention. And this he couldn’t risk. So he scrubbed especially hard and besides using double the amount of body soap he also added some layers of deodorant on top of it before leaving the steamy bathroom.

 

“Dude, did you get a new aftershave?” Scott leaned over the table and wrinkled his nose while taking in Stiles’ scent. And for a split second Stiles thought his heart had stopped, fear taking over. He knew werewolf’s senses were a lot more sensitive than human’s, but he really had thought that his shower efforts  surely got him free of any trace of Derek on his skin – even though somewhere deep down he felt a bit sad about how he couldn’t wear his scent like a trophy: Stiles Stilinski tamed the red-eyed beast.

Scott sat back in his seat and thought for a second before a smile spread on his face. “I like it. Is it Dior?” Stiles’ heartbeat kicked back in and he let out an inaudible sigh before taking a sip from his juice. “Na, I don’t think so. It’s just some sample I got the other day in the drug store. Don’t really remember the name…” Scott nodded slightly and took a bite from his bread, honey dripping over his fingers and onto his plate. “I think you should buy it. It suits you.”

Basically being told that sleeping in Derek’s arms made him smell great, let a weird feeling spread through Stiles’ breast. There was embarrassment about the fact that he had cuddled up and slept like a puppy in his roommates embrace, pride that most likely no other – especially non officially human – dude would ever dare to do so, fear that if Derek ever found out about this night he would kill him for good as well as a bad consciousness about lying to his friend.

Until now Stiles had told himself that not letting Scott in on his secret was just him giving the truth a bit more space. Not telling something was different than actually saying something that was untrue. And even though making Derek’s smell a cheap sample was a rather small lie, it still was exactly this: Stiles _lying_ to his best buddy in the whole wide world.

And it made him feel bad.

 

The morning went by rather quickly, Stiles almost falling asleep in his second lecture. And during Lunch he laughed so hard at Jackson ruining his favorite shirt by dropping a meatball on it that he almost fell from his chair. All in all Stiles considered it a quite normal day after what had been absolutely no normal night.

He waved his friends goodbye and made his way to his afternoon lecture, only to find a note on the door telling him it was cancelled. “Wish I had known this earlier…” Stiles heard a voice behind him and turned around to find a dark haired guy standing behind him, eyes on the note. “I ran all the way here… didn’t even eat lunch yet.” Stiles nodded. “Well, you can still buy something from the convenience store in the main building?”, he suggested.

The other one stayed silent and simply looked at Stiles. An intense and long stare that made Stiles shift on his feet. “You…” the boy started, a smirk forming on his lips. “You’re friends with Derek Hale, right?” Stiles felt all of his blood leave his face. “What?!” The other one’s grin turned wider and in Stiles opinion kind of creepy. “I’ll keep an eye on you.”

And with this the boy turned around and left.

It took Stiles a few minutes until he could shake of the goose bumps the strange guy had caused and he sighed. He always had a talent to get into trouble. And this guy most probably was trouble. But for now, Stiles had to find a way to spend the next two hours meaningful. So after buying a coffee from the convenience store he walked over to the library, continuing his research about half-bloods.

 

“You’re going to write a paper about half-bloods?” Allison threw herself into the chair next to Stiles. They were sitting in the back of the library between huge folders of newspapers and boxes full of micro-film. Stiles hopes he would find some new information the internet and common literature hadn’t provided him until now. But the dim light and dusty air made research less fun than he had hoped it would be.

“How’d you hear about it?” Stiles asked, looking up from the yellowed paper spreading below his fingers. Allison threw back her hair and leaned closer, interestedly taking a glance at the article Stiles had concentrated on. “Scott.” she answered flatly. “Found anything yet?” Stiles stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “Well... most of the sources have the same information. And all in all it’s close to nothing. So I was hoping to find something in the papers…”

Allison nodded absently, finishing the paragraph she was scanning. “You know…” she said looking up at Stiles. “I’ve joined this club last week.” “Archery, I know.” Stiles interrupted but immediately was met with a roll of eyes. “I joined Archery right after coming here, Stiles. No. I mean the Culture club.” Stiles lifted an eyebrow, unsure what Allison was aiming at. “Culture…” he repeated stupidly, which made Allison groan in annoyance.

“Yes, Stiles, Culture Club. It’s an afterschool club on Tuesday where werewolves as well as humans learn about each others culture. One of the assistant teachers, Deaton, runs it. I think he knows more about werewolves than anyone else… Maybe he also has some information about half-bloods?”

Stiles actually hadn’t been too eager to join any clubs until now. He had been in Lacrosse during High School, but he was man enough to admit to himself that the reason he sat on the bench for pretty much every game they had was that he sucked at it. He had been thinking about joining some kind of gaming club, or maybe debating. But all in all he just knew that most of the people for some reason didn’t like him very much. And Garnier Academy being packed with werewolves was one more reason to be careful with whom he mingled. He couldn’t risk being found out. And maybe, just maybe he didn’t want any club to cut into the time he spent in his room after his lectures, bickering with Derek about what to watch on TV, who was to blame for the mess in the bathroom or whichever other topic they were disagreeing on. He had grown fond of the short time they spent together, which made him feel like he knew a side of Derek Hale that no one else knew existed.

“Why don’t you just join us next week?” Allison cut into his thoughts.

“I don’t know…” he hesitated while scratching his neck. Maybe Deaton really could help him out with some information that wasn’t to be found in text books or newspapers. But if that guy knew as much about the supernatural as Allison said he does, maybe he could also see right through Stiles’ charade. Because even though Stiles wanted to tell himself that the fact that no one had ever found out about him was all due to his amazing secret-keeping-skills, he knew it was mainly thanks to him being almost invisible to pretty much everyone around him. And those who did notice him most likely were annoyed and turned to simply ignoring him.

“Come on!” Allison nudged his shoulder. “It’ll be fun! And if not, then you can just decide to not join after all….” Stiles thought for another second and then gave in with a surrendering shrug which made Allison beam up.

 

The upcoming nights Stiles woke up nervously a couple of times, studying the bed across the room. But most of the time Derek seemed to be sound asleep, his breath even and steady. Only on Saturday Stiles could hear his breathing getting rugged and a whimper dripping from the werewolf’s lips. Once again Stiles found himself in the arms of the alpha, his huge body pressed up against his back. He could feel his jaw hurt again, canines eager to break free. But he kept his back to the older one which made it easier for him to keep his inner wolf under control.

Even though the warmth of Derek’s body wrapped around him comfortably made his heart calm and fuzzy and the werewolf’s long fingers ghosting over the skin on his stomach, Stiles had fought the need to fall asleep until Derek had finally cooled down. He had to gather every last bit of self control to wind his way out of the muscular arms weighing him down comfortably in the soft mattress and carefully pulling the sleeping body up.

When he felt Derek’s full body weight on his shoulder he almost felt his knees give in. How heavy was that guy?! The one or two meters between their beds seemed like an almost insurmountable but Stiles pulled all his strength together and took slow, wobbly steps forwards until he could let Derek slide down in his own bed. Gently he pulled the sheets from below the bulky body and – not without taking in the incredible sight of Derek’s abs once more – tucked him in.

He was thinking about spraying some deodorant on the wolf in order to cover his smell on him, but the possibility of him waking up catching Stiles red handed was too big, so he decided to only weakening their mingled scents on his own body, wiping down his body with a washcloth and putting a good layer of deodorant over his sheets. And after nodding satisfied at the result of his cover up he laid back down.

 

And so the next Tuesday rolled around with only one more nightly incident and Stiles joined Allison for the Culture Club.  Even though he had been skeptical at first he found the club to be quite nice. He even saw some other classmates from High School he hadn’t met on campus before like Danny or the twins, whose name Stiles had to admit he had forgotten.

Deaton was a nice guy who always was surrounded by an aura of calmness. There was something about him that made Stiles a bit nervous, like he could see right through Stiles’ cover and directly at his inner wolf, but even if he was, Deaton didn’t say anything. He just smiled in this mysteriously knowing way while listening to the club members discuss what rules they were still missing in a mixed school like Garnier Academy in order to accustom both the humans as well as the werewolves best.

Stiles enjoyed the atmosphere and when Allison finally pushed him towards Deaton to ask about half-bloods, the man smiled. “Why are you so interested in the topic?” Stiles swallowed his nervousness and gave a slightly uncoordinated shrug. “I’m writing a paper for Mr. Langley’s seminar about half-bloods and I found it’s rather hard to get some _real_ information about them. Most of the information in the texts are based on hearsay and rural tales – If you ask me, one hardly can say they’re _facts_ …”

Deaton’s smile turned a bit wider as he nodded. “I see you’re open for new insights. Maybe I have something for you… I’ll have to look through my stuff, but if you want to I could give you what I find in a few weeks?” Stiles beamed up and nodded his head eagerly. “Yes, please! That… that would be awesome! Thanks!” So yeah, Allison’s idea turned out to be quite promising. He didn’t really know what exactly it was that Deaton was going to provide him with but the spark in his eyes had told Stiles that he must already had something in mind that came close to exactly the source of information he needed…

 

Stiles heard the floor squeak slightly and opened his eyes, sleepily staring at the red eyes glowing in the dark, slowly approaching his bed. A few weeks had passed and by now he had gotten used to Derek’s sleepwalk and his sudden need to feel Stiles’ body next to him seemingly taking control over him. It had taken a few nights of adjustment and a pillow filled with moonstone powder to keep Stiles’ inner wolf calm and hidden under the surface even if the alpha’s scent was so intriguingly sweet, so alluring that all common sense left him.

“Come on, big guy….” Stiles felt his lips curl up slightly as he pulled back his sheets and Derek accepted his invitation, the mattress slowly dipping under his weight. It was routine by now how the older one’s arm slung around his torso and pulled him close, how Stiles answered the gesture by guiding his hand over Derek’s broad shoulders to his neck, burying his fingers in the other one’s strong black hair.

Stiles loved Derek’s hair. It was thick but still incredibly soft and stroking it triggered some memory deep within him that he wasn’t quite able to decipher, that just didn’t want to surface yet but instead stayed just below his ribcage, spreading a nostalgic, fuzzy warmth through his body. How Derek looked for him to cool down was a miracle for Stiles. He himself felt like his skin was burning hotter with every ghostly touch of the werewolf’s fingers on his skin.

Derek hummed slightly, his until now ragged breath slowing down and his heartbeat adjusting to Stiles’. This was the moment Stiles liked the best: When their heartbeats aligned and he could feel Derek pull him so close that it almost felt like they were turning into one being.

He nuzzled Derek’ neck as he had done the other sleepless nights before, taking in more of his incredible scent. It was like a drug and the only thing keeping him sane was his trained self control supported by the moonstone he had gotten from Allison who most probably thought it was for him defending himself against his alpha-roommate. He wondered what kind of face she would make if she ever found out that he had needed the moonstone for himself, to keep him from wolfing out while extreme-cuddling with the guy he used to fear like nothing else in this world.

The image he painted in his head of Allison’s wide eyes and open mouth made him chuckle slightly, seemingly stirring the interest of the werewolf in his arms as Derek pulled his head from Stiles’ collarbone where he had pressed against the bared skin and his red eyes studied Stiles’ face in the dark. And Stiles found himself unable to do anything but stare back.

It was a bit weird, he had to admit, but for some reason he just _had_ to look at Derek’s face. Searching for something he didn’t quite know he was looking for in the red glow of the older one’s eyes, watching the dark shadows painting his sharp cheekbones, tracing the line of his jaw.

And Derek, too, just looked at him with clouded eyes. It was an unfamiliar sensation, a new addition to their nightly routine that Stiles didn’t quite know whether he could get his heart used to it. Right now it felt almost painful how his heart pounded against his ribcage, how he could hear the blood rush through his veins. And just when he thought he couldn’t take the other one’s intense stare anymore, Derek’s eyes fell shut.

But instead of giving Stiles’ poor heart a break and just return to pressing his cheek against Stiles’ as usual – giving him slight stubble burn which Stiles found out he thought strangely exciting – , Derek pushed his face closer until Stiles could feel his breath on his skin. And then without further warning Derek closed that last bit of space between their lips and kissed Stiles more carefully and tender than Stiles had ever thought a kiss could be.

His eyes went wide in disbelieve, not sure whether Derek hadn’t actually ripped out his throat and this was just some weird afterlife. He thought it perfectly believable that this was not reality, but after the first seconds of shock, he decided he didn’t care: If this was what waited for him after death, Derek’s lips gently pressing against his own was more than worth to die for.

He had always expected Derek to be a rough guy. Someone who would pull hair and bite lips and push his tongue in forcefully, claiming what was his. But instead the kiss was shy, sweet, just a brush of lips. Again. And again. And when their lips connected a fourth time and Stiles found himself drunk on the sweet scent coming from Derek, Stiles’ eyes, too, finally fell shut and he leaned in, closing his lips around Derek’s upper one.

He could feel the werewolf’s canines, a hard contrast to his incredibly warm and soft lips. And without quite knowing why, Stiles’ tipped his tongue through his slightly parted lips and licked hesitatingly over one of the fangs which made Derek let out a stuttered huff.

And then things speeded up: Derek’s hand spreading over his neck, pulling him in in a quick motion. Their lips crushing against each other, parted, hot breath mingling while eager tongues explored the inside of their mouths. There were hands covering every inch of skin they were able to find beneath the hem of their T-shirts, fingers fisting tightly in dark hair, the faint taste of minty tooth paste setting Stiles’ taste buds on fire as he sucked it from Derek’s lower lip.

Every touch was intense, setting Stiles’ skin on fire, sending sparks through his body. And with every second he felt the smell coming off of Derek in waves growing stronger, more intense, clouding his senses until he hardly could form any clear thought anymore – nothing on his mind but the sheer need to feel more, taste more, smell more of the man in front of him.

Stiles felt Derek’s legs entangled with his own and absent mindedly tried to keep his body from rubbing against the older one without much of a success. He felt his erection painfully brushing against the inside of his pajamas as it grew harder with every second he felt the other one’s body.

He had fantasized about kissing Derek. Yes, he admitted that. Who wouldn’t, seeing him undress that lethal body every day? It was just natural to get interested in a person so beautiful and intriguing as Derek. Especially when one didn’t exactly have a lot of luck in the love or sex department. Fantasies were the only thing Stiles had, but still, he was embarrassed about how desperately he clung to the other one’s body, how wantingly he moaned into Derek’s mouth as the older one pushed his tongue forward into his mouth, licking his gums teasingly.

But it didn’t matter anymore as not even a second later Derek’s hand had a firm grip on his butt, pressing him against his hip and Stiles could feel that he, too, was hard. When the hot bulges between their legs crashed together, a satisfied rumbling vibrated in the alpha’s throat, his eyes fluttering slightly, sprinkling the darkness of the room with flashed red and Stiles, too, could not bite back a surprised moan.

Stiles could feel his inner wolf howl in frustration, the moonstone powder making it too hard for him to break lose. He could feel the yellow sparks behind his eyes when Derek stopped bruising his lips with hard kisses and moved on to scraping his fangs over Stiles’ light skin, kissing the spot behind Stiles’ ears. Derek’s strong arm found its way around Stiles’ hips and suddenly Stiles was lying on his back, the other one’s hip weighing heavily on his, spreading his legs apart and giving both of their erections some space. Stiles’ lips let an embarrassingly frustrated whimper slip and then for suddenly his mind found a clear spot, telling him that _this_ was an absolutely bad idea.

He placed his hands on the alpha’s shoulders and gave them a gentle push. “Derek, please… we shouldn’t…” but before he could find the right words, Derek’s fingers wrapped around his wrists and pinned them over his head. He looked down at Stiles, eyes deep red and pupils wide with lust and everything Stiles had been about to say was sucked out of his mind when Derek kissed him hungrily.

Having lost all common sense by now, Stiles pushed his hips upside, rubbing against Derek’s manhood as if his life depended on it. His fingers dug deeper into the skin on the other one’s shoulders. “Derek…”, he moaned and the alpha bent down again, spreading hungry kisses over his chest. Stiles slung his legs around the other one’s hip and pulled him as close as he could. Derek let out a satisfied, deep groan and bit down on his nipple, scraping Stiles’ skin with his fangs in the process.

The younger one threw his head back into his pillow, baring his throat. The alpha’s pupils widened in excitement at the sight of Stiles’ pulse underneath his tender skin and within a split second Derek’s mouth was at his throat sucking on his pulse point, while Stiles slung his arms around the muscular body, pulling him close in a desperate attempt to leave just as many marks on Derek as he did on him. But to his frustration he had to find every dark spot on Derek’s broad shoulder starting to disappear right after he had created it. But when Derek’s lips found his own again, his frustration was quickly forgotten, and every roll of their hips brought him closer to the edge.

After a few minutes both of them had obvious trouble to focus on their kisses, both of them just breathing into each others mouth, watching the other through clouded eyes while their hips crashed against each other in quick and intense movements.

Stiles lost it first, his nails digging deep into Derek’s shoulder blades as his shuddering body clung to the older one’s, his toes curling and his head buried in Derek’s neck. His hips twitched uncontrollably as he felt spurts of cum turn his boxers into a sticky mess. He swallowed hard, trying to breathe himself down from his orgasm, while the thrusts of Derek’s hips sped up and just a few seconds later the alpha’s muscles tensed and Stiles could feel his cock twitch against his own.

Stiles felt himself press a kiss on Derek’s sweaty temple and the older one hummed in appreciation while he sunk down on Stiles’ body. He was heavy and sweaty but Stiles liked the confinement, one of the only movements he was capable of now being his fingers gently stroking through Derek’s hair. He listened to both of their heartbeats, their breaths slowly settling down.

Slowly his mind started working again and a slight panic took over. What the hell had happened just now? Him dry humping uber-alpha Derek Hale must have been the most stupid thing he ever had done. Why hadn’t his mind stopped him? And how would he ever be able to cover up this incident? It had been hard enough to cover their mixed smell up until now. Getting rid of the smell of both of them _having sex_ would be close to impossible…

He was screwed. That was for sure.


	7. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it took me so long again to update. I try to update at least once a week, but over the next week(s) I'm not sure how good I can keep my schedule with christmas and my return to Japan and all. But I prommise I'm trying my best to update timely! Aaand thank you guys so much as the number of Kudos and Subscriptions have increased a lot!! It really motivates me a lot :)
> 
> So... I hope you'll enjoy this chapter again! Let me know what you think :3  
> (And sorry: The smut has to wait another chapter after all... but there's still be loads of it to come! So stay tuned!)

“This is bad… this is so bad.” Stiles mumbled over and over as he pulled out the deodorant wipes he had bought after the third night Derek had climbed into his bed. He fought back panicked tears as he hastily pulled one of the sheets from the package and wiped over Derek’s neck where he before had so desperately had tried to leave marks. His smell surely was all over the place, almost impossible to erase. But he couldn’t help but try. He had to get his smell off of the werewolf before he came to. And… well… then there still was that other smell that lingered so thickly in the air that even he as half-blood could almost _taste_ on his tongue.

“He’s gonna kill me. He’s definitely gonna kill me…” he bit down on his lip and wiped away a tear with the back of his hand. He couldn’t get a panic attack now. He simply couldn’t. He had to get this mess cleaned up. So he took a deep breath and continued wiping over Derek’s muscles, over his arms, his chest, his stomach. When his fingers brushed over the waistband of Derek’s pants, he swallowed hard and stilled for a moment.

This was so awkward. Too awkward. So instead of just going for it, Stiles stood up and went over to the window, letting in some fresh air hoping the thick smell of sex would float outside. Stiles took a deep breath of night air and shuddered slightly in the cold breeze. He turned around and let his gaze wander through the dark room until it lingered on the sleeping figure in the bed to his left.

How had things come to what they were? Just a few weeks before Derek had pretty much hated him, pushing him into walls and doors, their conversation nothing but growls and words spit through gritted teeth. And then with just a warm beer and a night spent at Derek’s side things had changed so much… greetings were exchanged openly, time after their lectures suddenly spent more often in their room. They had started to talk about their lectures, the bad food in the cafeteria, movies and bands they had discovered. And even though Derek didn’t really know about his nights pressed up to Stiles body, it was as if he remembered the closeness of their nights. He had become warmer and sometimes Stiles even thought he could see one of Derek’s rare smiles. Not a full-faced, teethy one. But one of those small and silent ones that only slightly pulled on the corners of his lips while mainly consisting of a spark in Derek’s eyes. It was a mesmerizing smile that Stiles had found himself craving for somehow. He had started to give his best to make the older one laugh, had put his best stories in the ring, he even once had danced Stiles’ Original Mr. Donut Dance  which had made Derek almost choke on the sweet in his mouth.

Stiles had to smile at the memory. Derek’s eyes had turned into happy half-moons and if he hadn’t had choked so much he surely would have shown Stiles the beautiful, wide smile he had aimed for. In the end he had been satisfied with the charming “You’re such a weirdo” Derek had uttered with a warmth in his voice that Stiles heard more often these days.

Shaking off the goose bumps on his bare skin, Stiles pushed himself from the edge of the desk he had leaned against and moved to Derek again, his fingers pulling out another damp sheet while his left hand started pulling on Derek’s pants, the soft fabric gliding over the werewolf’s softened member. Stiles gulped at the sight – and no his pride wasn’t hurt through the sight that was offered. It surely were those frickin’ werewolf-genes that made him that…. well… well-hung. – and tried to not get bright red when he started to carefully wipe the sticky mess from Derek’s crotch.

In a weird attempt to tear his mind from his fingers brushing against the damp hair that framed Derek’s cock Stiles thought about the other night when Derek had joined him to watch Donny Darko, how he wanted to convince Stiles that The Butterfly Effect was so much better – hmpf. As if! - and the werewolf finally had to admit that nothing, absolutely nothing could beat a huge bunny announcing the end of the world. They had shared a bag of microwave popcorn and Stiles had been amazed at how much the image of the dark and grumpy sourwolf mismatched the huge guy lying on his stomach next to Stiles who stuffed his face with caramel popcorn as if his life depended on it. His heart had fluttered a little at the sight of Derek’s long fingers pushing pieces of popcorn past his sensual lips. And the way their feet had entangled now and then it had almost felt as if they were lovers, spending a day off in bed.

Stiles stopped his mind forcedly. Thinking about the two of them being lovers while wiping down sleeping Derek’s cock was definitely _not_ a good idea. And to add to his embarrassment he could feel his own crotch getting uncomfortable tight again.

He took Derek’s pants and rushed over to the bathroom where he after having stepped out of his own boxer shorts tried his best to wash away the signs of their nightly activities. He got out the stains quite well, he thought, but when it came to the smell he wasn’t just as sure. For him it smelled mostly like soap and deodorant, but would it be enough to cover the embarrassing smell in regards of a sensitive werewolf nose? Stiles bit down on his lips and covered the fabric with another layer of smell, this time his aftershave. The more different the smells, the more difficult he hoped it would be for Derek to distinguish and match the single smells.

When he lifted his eyes to his reflection he was in for another surprise: Two almost purple hickeys, one of them almost three centimeters in radius framing his neck. “Oh my gosh!” He took some water and desperately rubbed over the marks until he reminded himself with a deep sigh that hickeys were not actually something a hand full of water and soap could get off. This was definitely not helping him cover up the whole situation. Definitely not. But that was only the second thing he had to take care of. First he needed to get Derek dressed again before the werewolf woke up.

When he left the bathroom after cleaning himself up and giving his best to quick dry their underpants he found Derek still sleeping on his bed. With a burning red creeping up his cheeks he awkwardly pulled the still slightly damp shorts up over Derek’s muscular legs. But of course things were never going as easy as he wanted to, so when the waist band got stuck under Derek’s balls Stiles threw his head back in frustration. This was so _so_ awkward and if Derek woke up just now as his fingers dipped between the werewolf’s legs, brushing slightly against his sack, Stiles was sure his dad would make him found in pieces spread all over Beacon Hills.

Derek sighed slightly and when his nose twitched Stiles thought his life was over. Hastily he pulled up the finally freed pants and kicked the package of wipes under his bed. The aftershave still in his hands, he pumped a few times spreading the biting smell all over Derek before jumping for the window. By the time he had shut it closed he could hear Derek shuffle and mumble something. Stiles mind went blank with panic. This could be his last seconds before a very, _very_ hurtful death. _And he would die a virgin_ , his mind added uselessly, because yeah, dry humping a sleepwalking werewolf didn’t really count.

“Stiles?” he heard a husky voice through the dark shadows in the room and felt the cold of the small bottle in his hand. And without really knowing the reason why, his hand flexed up and the aftershave bottle collided with the floor in a loud clash that sent Derek sitting in his bed. Stiles stumbled forward, hitting the nightstand and bumping his knee and toe. Hissing he hopped forward and right into Derek’s view. “S-Sorry… I kinda… lost orientation…”

Derek’s hair stuck up in the back as he tried to take in the situation. Suddenly he grimaced, his nose wrinkling as he pulled up his arm to cover his sensitive nose. “Dude, what have you done? It smells awful here!” Stiles’ heart sped up as he turned on the light on his nightstand and pointed to the smashed bottle on the floor. “Sorry… must have dropped my aftershave…” Derek coughed, the smell obviously too strong for his werewolf senses. “It’s awful. How can you even breathe in this stink? Open the window!”

Stiles put on a hurt face. “Hey, not enough that I lost an expensive bottle of aftershave just now, now you tell me my most beloved smell ‘stinks’?” Derek rolled his eyes as he got up and when he pulled on his damp pants with a frown, Stiles’ heart stopped for a second. But the smell seemed to distract him fast enough to not think further about his underwear but instead made him jump over the scattered pieces of glass on the floor and open the window.

“What did you walk around the room in the night anyway?” Derek asked after having taken in a deep breath of cold fresh air. Stiles swallowed, trying to calm his heartbeat to a steady rhythm. “I”, he started, his voice cracking a bit. “I wanted to go to the bathroom but must have still been disoriented from sleepiness… somehow I ended up at the window and must have knocked over the aftershave…” It was a really bad excuse, but Derek seemed to buy it somehow. “Who the hell has his aftershave standing next to his bed?!” he asked annoyed and waved in front of his nose as he walked back to his bed. “Gosh, I bet this smell will linger in here forever…”

Stiles shrugged his shoulders in excuse and lurched over to the bathroom to get the broom and pull over a T-shirt in a weak attempt to cover his bruised neck. When Derek still hadn’t said anything by the time he knelt down over the scattered glass, he started to feel relieved. Maybe the smell really was strong enough to cover any other scents. _If you can’t get rid of a smell, cover it with something overwhelmingly strong_ , he noted for himself. But it wasn’t until Derek had stuffed his nose with tissues grumbling and glaring at Stiles while lying back down that the tension in Stiles’ shoulders finally released.

He poked the werewolf – very literally, if he thought about it a bit longer – and lived. And he knew that he wouldn’t be able to pull something like this off a second time, so he had to make sure this didn’t happen again. If Derek climbing into his bed would lead to situations like this more often, he had to keep him away somehow. He might feel bad for the big guy, after all Derek cuddling up to him was his way of coping with his panic attacks, but he simply couldn’t afford all the expensive aftershave it would need to cover up. And sleeping in the sourwolf’s arms was one thing, but getting all sexual tensed up with him while the other was pretty much unconscious? That was just bad. After all Derek most likely wouldn’t even think about doing anything to him if he wasn’t all panic-wolved-out… .

Stiles nodded to himself. This had to stop. The sooner the better. And after a few minutes, the strong smell in his nose and a weird pressure in his chest, Stiles finally found some sleep again. And if the smell kept his nightly sin hidden, he would open his eyes again in a couple of hours.

 

“That’s a very strong smell you give off…” Stiles’ heard a voice behind him and when he turned around he looked into a greatly amused face. “Sorry, but…” Stiles frowned. “…who were you again?” The dark haired boy just smirked as an answer. “I wonder what made you think you had to use a whole bottle of perfume?” Stiles let out an annoyed huff and turned around, but the boy kept following him. “I bet a nose as sensitive as your roomy Derek’s wasn’t too amused, hm?”

“What’s your frickin’ problem?” Stiles spit out as he turned in front of his lecture hall and almost threw his backpack into the boys face. “What the fuck do you want from me?!” The boy shushed him and pushed past him into the room with a glow in his eyes that gave Stiles the creeps. “Just striking up some conversation… but just a tiny advise: If you want to really cover up those hickeys, a scarf is like the most obvious way, you know…” And with this the guy mingled among the other students and Stiles lost sight of him. But before he could think further about him, Isaac showed up next to him, his firm grip on Stiles’ shoulder. “What does Matt want from you?”

Stiles lifted an eyebrow. “Matt?” He had heard the name before, but for some reason couldn’t remember where. “Yeah, that guy.” Isaac said before he grimaced and held his hand in front of his nose. “Dude, did you fall into a tub full of cheap perfume?!” Stiles put on a hurt face. “Wish it _was_ cheap… that’s frickin’ 50bucks you smell…” Isaac gave him a crooked smile and pulled into a row of seats, pushing down one of the seats while dropping his bag beside him. “Matt’s a creeper. You better stay away from him.”

Stiles nodded absentmindedly and sat down next to the blonde. “He’s a werewolf, too, right?” Isaac clenched his teeth and nodded. “He used to be a sad loser until he got bitten.” “So he’s a beta like you?”, Stiles asked and immediately was rewarded with a low growl dripping from Isaacs throat – the first intimidating gesture Stiles had ever encountered from the blonde wolf. “Matt is _nothing_ like me.”, Isaac spit out. “He _killed_ his alpha. Ripped out his throat. And he did the same with other werewolves, too, … omegas, betas, … just for the sake of power.”

Stiles ruffled his hair. “So… he’s a real psycho. Got it.” And after a short break he added the question that had burned inside of him since the first time he had met the weird guy. “What… what does he want from Derek?”

Isaac’s eyes went wide. “He asked you about Derek?” Stiles nodded, feeling his heartbeat speeding up a little. Whatever the answer was, he could tell he was in trouble just from looking at Isaac’s face. “He tried to steal Derek’s territory a few years ago, but Derek kicked his ass. If he’s set you’re eyes on you….” Stiles groaned and hit his head against his desk. “I’m in trouble.” And Isaac just nodded. When the blonde stayed silent, Stiles looked up again to find Isaac scribble something on his notebook.

Stiles was about to open his mouth when Isaac turned the page so Stiles could read his words. ‘As long as Matt is in the same room we should communicate in writing. That creep’s surely listening in.’ And about a centimeter below it said: ‘What did he ask you about Derek?’ Stiles looked at Isaac who watched him with big eyes. Normally he would think Isaac was pretty paranoid, but when it was that creepy Matt guy they were talking about he totally could imagine him listening in on them with his frickin’ werewolf senses. So he picked up the pencil and started writing.

‘He asked me whether I was friends with Derek. And he seems to know I room with him. Didn’t talk much tho.’ Isaac gritted his teeth when he furiously scratched his pen over the paper. ‘If he knows you two get along, you better watch out. A prick like him surely tries to use you to get to Derek.’ Stiles lifted an eyebrow and looked at Isaac suspiciously. What could that creeper do anyway? But after thinking about the question for a few seconds, Stiles skin turned cold a little. After all Matt had directly addressed his _need to use a whole bottle of perfume_ and he had noticed his hickeys on top of that. If he had only the tiniest bit of a clue and combined both pieces of information Stiles was screwed. Like. _Really_ screwed.

‘If he troubles you in any way let me know.’ Stiles found written below Isaac pointing finger and smiled. He really never would have thought that any werewolf in this world could be such a nice guy. And because Stiles was a person to show his gratefulness he pulled the blonde werewolf in a big bearhug. When he let go of Isaac the blond one lifted an eyebrow and scribbled something on his notebook again: ‘What’s up with the scarf? You sick?’

Stiles cleared his throat and gave him a goofy grin. ‘We slept with the window open. Kinda got to my throat…’ And thanks to Isaac being the cute wolf he was all Stiles was confronted with was a sympathetic smile and a ‘Hope you get well soon’ in the corner of the paper.

 

“Dad, what’s up?” Stiles leaned back in his chair, the cell phone stuck between his shoulder and his ear while he stretched in a yawn. A towel hang from his head as he had tried to get rid of the incredibly clingy smell he had tortured his supernatural friends with the whole day. Derek had fled from their room as the smell still lingered heavily in the air. At least it had saved Stiles ass one last time – he couldn’t have wished for more than that. And his dad – he better never ever _ever_ learned about any of this.

“Can’t a dad call his son once in a while? Especially when said son hasn’t called his poor dad in weeks?” Stiles laughed and rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, dad. I’m in college now. It’s not like I need to report to you every single day, do I?” He heard his father huff on the other end of the line. “If anything big happens, I’ll let you know. Promise.”

His father started talking about some new cases and proudly reported that even without his son around he hadn’t eaten any fast food up until now. (Stiles was sure that was a big fat lie. He knew his fathers voice when he tried to cover up a curly fry-incident.) “And how are things on your side?” the Sherriff finally couldn’t hold back anymore. “How is college?”

Stiles turned on his chair, his fingers playing with the edge of the table. “Awesome. Most of my classes are fun, I even joined an afterschool club again.” “Lacrosse?” his father asked, the television barking in the background. “No… You know I suck at Lacrosse. And in a team filled with werewolves I wouldn’t even have as much as one single chance to ever get on the field…” He sighed and turned back to the window. “I had Allison talk me into joining something called ‘Culture Club’. It’s pretty much about learning about both species, learning about the differences between their cultures and well… get along. It’s quite interesting. Really.”

The sheriff silenced for a second and Stiles could almost hear his worry. “You shouldn’t mingle too much with the wolves. You know that, right?” he asked carefully and Stiles groaned. “Dad! I’m not a kid anymore! I know that it’s risky, but if I don’t learn to handle it now for good, when else? I can take care of myself… trust me.” He knew his dad meant good, but he surely wouldn’t hide out forever just because of his true self.

He loved Scott and Allison and Lydia (and okay, sometimes fighting with Jackson was kinda fun, too…) but he had always wanted to have friends besides them, too. If things had went as his dad wanted, Stiles was sure he would have stayed in the back of every seminar all alone. Or not even joined Garnier Academy. But meeting Isaac had been one of the best things that had happened for him in a long time and even though Cora kind of scared the crap out of him most of the time, she was fun to hang out with. And Derek? He basically was the greatest risk he had ever taken, but he would take this risk anytime again.

He heard rustling on the other end of the line and then a deep sigh. “I know, son. I’m just… I’m worried.” And for a while both of them stayed silent. “So… you’re rooming with Scott?” Stiles had feared this question which was pretty much the main reason he never had called his dad until now. He swallowed hard and tried his best to wind his way out of a too detailed answer. “No, Garnier Academy has this system of putting freshmen with seniors… guess they see it as some kind of tutor-program…” His dad muted his TV and Stiles could hear him shift on the sofa.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles threw back his head in frustration. Why did his dad only listen to his words in that detail when it was most inconveniently? “So you have a stranger as a roommate?”

“Dad. It’s not bad. I learned a lot from him about the school and all… and it’s not like we’re together that often. He’s out most of the time anyway…” But of course this wasn’t enough to satisfy the Sheriff.  “Is it a wolf?” Stiles grimaced and silently headdesked. “ _Dad_!”

“Answer me Stiles. Who is that guy?” Stiles knew that when his dad went all interrogation on him there was no way to wind his way out, but he tried anyway. “Dad it’s really cool with me. I’m fine!” When the Sheriff finally spit out his whole name, he gave in with a loud sigh. “I’m rooming with Derek.” “Derek? Like in Derek _Hale_?” He heard the sofa squeak, his dad probably having gotten up. He could picture him standing in the living room, his teeth gritted and his right hand on his gun.

“Dad. It’s really nothing. Derek’s fine. He’s-“ But his dad didn’t even let him finish. “No way in hell, boy. Definitely no. You’ll move out of that room immediately, got it?” He could hear the fear in his father’s voice and it wasn’t that he didn’t understand that hearing about his boy living with one of the leading alphas of the area wasn’t making him happy. And if he ever found out about what happened between him and Derek the other night the werewolf most probably wouldn’t live to see another sunrise.

Stiles wished his father would just see that he was fine. He could manage this on his own. And if Stiles was frank with himself he still felt bad about the night before. After all Derek didn’t even know what happened. It felt like Stiles had assaulted him, even though he had pretty much been the passive one there. Stiles still felt the need to somehow make up for it. And thinking about Derek maybe unconsciously climbing into some other guys bed made him feel sick to his stomach. “Dad… please… I wanna stay here. I’m fine.”

“No, Stiles. No matter what you say, you’ll not stay in the same room as Derek Hale. _No_. You know that he’s the…” His dad swallowed down the rest of his sentence before concluding with a stern and final “No.” And with this the conversation was ended – and Stiles angry. Angry at his dad for not even considering Stiles’ feelings for one second here, but rather throw himself into his over protectiveness and angry at himself for not having stood up more to him. He loved his dad, but sometimes he wanted to punch him in the face.

He let out a frustrated sigh and threw his phone angrily on his bed.

“Who was that?” he heard a familiar husky voice coming from the door. Derek closed the wooden door behind him and scratched his chest. Stiles sighed deep before answering in a low voice. “My dad.” Derek just lifted an eyebrow and walked up to his bed, kicking off his shoes. “You shouldn’t fight with your dad…”

Stiles huffed. “If he wants to mess with my life, I’m well allowed to fight with him!” Frustrated he pushed himself from the chair and stomped over to his bed. The werewolf just watched him silently while pulling up his long legs on his bed. “He still treats me like I’m still twelve years old! I mean… I’m 20 now! I can very much take care of my own life!”

Derek let out a long sigh and leaned against the wall, his eyes still resting on Stiles as he blabbered on and on about how his dad was in the wrong and listed various incidents where he had proved already  that he was able to lead his own life by now. After Stiles got caught in his anger of how he was the adult in the family when he had to tell his dad to stay the fuck away from curly fries and other unhealthy things, Derek finally got up from his bed and walked over to his desk to pull out his bag that was cramped in the corner next to his chair. Without a word he pulled out a DVD, walked over to Stiles still rambling on and hit him gently on the head with it.

“Hey!” Stiles had already pulled his face in a pout and wanted to complain about Derek’s lack of listening skills and affection for him when his eyes caught the title of the DVD he had pulled from the werewolf’s hands. “Wow! You found it? Awesome!” He instantly beamed up and for a second he thought the corners of Derek’s lips were following his example.

“Yeah,” the older one hummed and took Stiles’ laptop from the desk. “Thought we could watch it tonight.” Suddenly stopping in his movements, Derek turned his head and looked at Stiles a little unsurely (an expression which was incredibly cute in Stiles opinion). “Only if you don’t have other plans already, of course?” Stiles grinned from one ear to the other. “You know even if I did have other plans, I’d gladly cancel for a video night with my favorite sourwolf!”, he cheered.

And the shy smile on Derek’s face when he placed the laptop on Stiles bed and rummaged through the box of snacks they had standing in the corner of their room made Stiles realize that maybe it wasn’t that much of a secret anymore that what he said actually had been the truth: He liked spending evenings with Derek so much that he pretty much would cancel out on anything else just to relax next to the werewolf’s huge body, watching a movie that most other people would find stupid or old fashioned and fight through the weirdest and most awesome movie discussions he ever had. (Movie nights with Scott had always been awesome, but this? This was different - _made him feel_ different.)

And maybe Derek’s almost gentle expression as he threw a pack tortilla chips at Stiles also was a hint that the werewolf, too, enjoyed their roomy-nights.

 

It was at the end of the week that Stiles got called to the Housing Office.  
He sat in front of the small room on an uncomfortable chair and scratched his neck. After a few minutes of counting the planks on the floor the door next to him finally opened and a brown haired girl stepped out, greeting him with a nod.

“Mr. Stilinski?”, a deep voice roaring from the inside and Stiles got up and entered the room with a mumbled greeting. To his surprise the deep voice was that of a woman, not very much to his surprise said woman was what nice people would call corpulent and looked like a hundred years old. She looked at him from over her glasses and gestured him to sit down in front of her desk. “It’s about the room change…” she started and Stiles frowned, holding up a hand to interrupt her.

“Please what?! What room change?” But before the woman could even answer his question he already had an idea. “Don’t tell me my dad called here and requested for me to move?!” The woman pushed up her glasses and pushed a paper into his direction. “Well, Mr. Stilinski, we got the request for you to move rooms.” “Well, definitely not from me! I don’t want to change rooms! I like my rooming situation!” Stiles’ voice cracked with anger. He couldn’t believe his father would really go that far and actually call here. This was nuts. He had no intention whatsoever to follow this request and he started his protest with demonstratingly crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“We have prepared a room for you in the 5th floor of House Roser. You will have the room for yourself…” Stiles huffed angrily and hit his hands down on the table. “No! I won’t change rooms, okay? I have a room and I like it there.” The woman just sighed in annoyance and massaged her temples, her eyes resting on the furious boy in front of her. “Mr. Stilinski”, she tried again. “I have seen that you room with Mr. Derek Hale. In these special circumstances…”

But Stiles couldn’t hold back. “’Special circumstances’?! What ‘Special circumstances’?? He’s an alpha, okay, but …. We’re cool. There might have been tensions in the beginning, but that’s done now. So why the hell should I change rooms?”The lady seemingly had it and without further attempts to explain the situation to Stiles she shoved some papers into his direction. “Mr. Hale already agreed to your new rooming situation, so I kindly ask you to sign the paper and start packing.”

Stiles thought he was hit over the head with a bat. “Derek… agreed?” He heard the blood rush to his head and felt his heartbeat speed up, his thoughts tumbling over one another. This was bullshit. This couldn’t be right. And without listening to the woman’s protest he pushed the chair back and sped out of the room and up to their room.

Derek turned his head, a confused look on his face, when the door slammed into the wall. “Dude, what the hell?” he grunted and put the book and the marker from his hands.  When Stiles didn’t answer him but just stood in the room, panting and with a hurt expression on his face Derek got up from his chair. “Stiles?” he asked, brows furrowed as his hand reached out to stable the younger one who obviously wasn’t himself right now. But Stiles pushed him away hard.

“What the hell?!” he shrieked, sounding a lot more hurt than he wanted to. “How could you?” Derek looked at him in confusion, obviously not knowing what Stiles was talking about. “You…” Stiles started, fighting back tears of disappointment. “You could have just told me if you wanted me out of here!!”, he finally spit out, giving Derek’s chest a hard push again.

The werewolf sighed, his head lowered and his eyes fixating his socks. “That’s not what…” “Then what?!”, Stiles huffed angrily. “What else is this about, hm? You know how underhanded that is? I mean… I thought we were buddies!” He sounded stupid and clingy and he knew it, but Stiles just couldn’t shut up. He needed to let the words come out of he felt they would burn him from the inside, leaving him to be nothing but ashes. “You know how stupid I feel?! I thought… I thought we had a good time and that you, too, enjoyed it when we spent time together… I thought… And you… you just throw me out! And you don’t even have the balls to say it to my face, no, you have me told by some stupid old hag. You’re such a…. You…”

By now he had trouble breathing properly. It had been a long time since he last had a panic attack – and god it was embarrassing to get that much worked up because of a room change. But no. It was not about the single act of changing rooms. It was about Stiles’ hurt pride. About him feeling betrayed by someone he opened up to. ‘We’re talking about Derek Hale here. How could you even think he was anything else but an evil prick?’ He could almost hear his friends mock him. But that was pretty much it: He had thought Derek was a nice guy. That they were something like friends by now. That he was one of the few people, broody alpha Derek Hale let into his life and actually _cared_ for somehow. But maybe he had just made a fool out of himself. Maybe even the nightly encounters had been a scheme to break him. An underhanded technique to make sure he would never ever get close to Derek. And now that it hadn’t paid off, Derek just wanted to get rid of him.

“Stiles, breathe!” he distantly noticed Derek’s shaking voice. And only then he noticed that he had sunk to his knees by now, clasping his hurting chest. He felt dizzy and sick and hurt and betrayed and… this was too much. And he must look embarrassing. Maybe after making such an ass out of himself, it was the best to change rooms after all. “Stiles!!” Derek looked worried when Stiles eyes finally found focus again and locked in on the werewolf’s lips, moving as he tried to talk Stiles down from his attack.

“Breathe with me, okay?” And even though Stiles wanted to protest, wanted to rebel and do anything but what Derek told him, he found himself breathe in and out in unison with the alpha, his big hand resting on Stiles’ chest. And after a felt eternity Stiles thoughts cleared again, his brain finally getting enough oxygen again to stop screaming a stream of angry thoughts at him.

“I’m sorry…” Stiles heard Derek say after a few minutes of silence, both of them just sitting opposite of each other on the floor. “I should have told you that I agreed to the move.” And before Stiles could throw an angry comment at him he added: “It’s not like I don’t like rooming with you!”

Stiles wanted to give him a snort, maybe add some mean words, but Derek’s eyes looked sincere, clouded with a dark layer or emptiness. So he held back, fumbled with his shoelaces and decided to listen to what the werewolf had to say. “I…” Derek started, his voice a bit more husky than it usually was. “I really wouldn’t have thought I could enjoy sharing my room with anyone, but…” he sighed silently. “… I grew weirdly accustomed to have you around. I mean: You’re a pain in the ass, but… it reminded me of good times. And… I liked that.”

Stiles watched the thoughts running through Derek’s eyes as his facial expression turned cold and he swallowed the need to put his palms on the other one’s cheek, to pull his face up and study those eyes in greater detail, hoping to find out what exactly was hidden behind that forced stoic face. When Derek didn’t add anything to his words, Stiles scratched his knee . “Then why do you want me to leave?”

Derek looked him straight in the face, any open sign of emotion hidden behind his alpha face. “Because you can’t stay with me. It’s for your best. Believe me.”

He might have meant well and for him and his alpha-mind his words might have made sense, but they definitely didn’t for Stiles. “For my best?!” he asked sarcastically. “Bullshit. As if me rooming with you would be bad for me. Come on..:” But Derek stayed silent. “What? You’re embarrassed now that you get along with a lowly human?”

Derek had him by his collar faster than he could blink his eyes. He hadn’t felt the werewolf’s big fingers gripping his shirt for a long time and it kind of made Stiles feeling almost nostalgic. “What? Am I wrong?” But instead of answering his question, Derek huffed and relaxed his tense muscles. “Aren’t you afraid of me at all?” Stiles thought for a second before curling his lips up in a grin. “Frankly speaking? No. I mean yeah, you can be frickin’ scary if you want to. But the big bad wolf act doesn’t work on me anymore. Especially not after you told me you like living with me.”

This made Derek groan in frustration as he pushed himself off the floor. After he sat down on his bed, ruffling his hair and taking a deep breath, Derek looked straight into Stiles eyes with a stern look on his face. “We’re not discussing this anymore: You’re moving out. Starting tonight you’re on your own.”

Stiles smile froze on his face and he wanted to protest, but Derek had already gotten up and left the room, leaving Stiles behind on the floor... .


	8. Single Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update (again ._.) - after I returned to Japan I was first super jet-lagged and then I was swamped with work... . But the good news is: I was able to write bits and bites of upcoming chapters already, so I think I will be able to update quicker than the last times. I'll give my best to find a steady rythm! I promise!
> 
> Well, I hope this chapter (especially the beginning) makes up for the wait a bit :) Please enjoy!

A silent moan dripped from Stiles’ throat when he felt strong fingers cup his butt, pulling him close right before they teasingly ghosted over his hip bones and eventually dug into the soft fabric of his T-shirt, holding onto Stiles as if afraid he might disappear. Stiles leaned into Derek’s arms, tilting his head to catch the older one’s lips as his hands, too, found their way under the black shirt covering the werewolf’s impeccable abs, exploring every inch of skin they could find.

In a clumsy motion Stiles rid Derek of his top and started covering the newly revealed skin with hungry kisses. A satisfied hum dripped from Derek’s lips as he played with the younger one’s waistband, his warm fingers brushing over Stiles’ skin, making him gasp in anticipation. Seconds later, Stiles’ eyes followed his t-shirt on his way to the floor, but Derek’s lips claiming his own easily diverted him.

He could feel the other one’s canines expand against his lips, a sensation that put his nerves on fire, shooting straight to his cock. His hips twitched and the short friction of their bodies obviously having an encouraging effect on the werewolf as he moaned into Stiles’ mouth, his tongue now more aggressive playing with Stiles’. The younger one answered Derek’s intensiveness with his hands rubbing hungrily over his crotch, feeling Derek’s dick swell under the teasing caress.

And suddenly Derek spun him around, his mouth immediately busying itself with nibbling on Stiles’ neck as his fingers skillfully opened first Stiles’ belt and a split second later his fly, letting his jeans drop to the floor with a dump noise. Stiles moaned in satisfaction, his right hand reaching for Derek’s head, his fingers digging into the older one’s dark hair, trying to pull him even closer, to feel him even more.

Derek in the mean while sucked on the soft spot behind Stiles’ ear while his hands rummaged over the smaller one’s body, letting his nails scratch over his sensitive nipples. Stiles let out a deep moan and twisted his head a bit more in a desperate attempt to catch the other one’s lips again. But Derek pulled pack, a teasing grin pulling up the corners of his mouth as he gently rubbed his thumb over Stiles’ bared throat. “Please…” Stiles heard himself beg as he pushed his hips back, crushing them against Derek’s’, feeling the other one’s hardened dick through the thin layer of fabric that covered his ass.

He heard a rumble in Derek’s throat and Stiles thought he was about to go crazy when he could feel the other one’s tongue teasingly brushing over his ear, sucking on his earlobe. Stiles didn’t care about how slutty he must look with his fingers dug deep into the older one’s ruffled hair, his hip rolling back to catch every friction it could get from the other one’s warm body, his boxers revealing an embarrassing bulge under Derek’s long and lean fingers.

Suddenly Stiles was on his bed, Derek hovering above him, his eyes diluted and wide with lust. In a quick motion Stiles’ boxers found their way to the floor on the other side of the room and he shuddered at the cold air brushing against his heated skin. Derek kissed him again, distracting him from how his legs were gently pulled apart, warm hands rubbing over the inside of his thighs before they moved further upwards, fingers playing with the soft hair framing his now fully erect cock.

“Oh gosh…” Stiles moaned, but his words were lost somewhere between his and Derek’s lips as the older one once again tipped his tongue between his lips, teasingly licking his gums. He felt his hips twist as Derek’s fingers closed around his erection, squeezing him slightly while moving almost painfully slow over his length.

“You like that, huh?” Derek hummed satisfied as Stiles quivered below him. “Yeah”, the younger one moaned, forgetting every sense of shame as he jerked his hips up, meeting the steady movement of Derek’s fist. Derek Hale was jerking him off. He was sucking on his collar bone, kissing his way down to Stiles’ nipples, biting down on them teasingly. Derek Hale– Derek _fucking_ Hale – was breathing on his skin as he moved down further until his lips pressed against Stiles’ bright red tip, careful as to not hurt him with his fangs.

The sight alone was almost enough to make Stiles come right there and then. But Derek tipped out his tongue, licking over the head and the only thing Stiles’ could do was throw back his head with a loud moan on his lips. The fingers of his left hand dug deep into the sheet below him while his other hand fisted in Derek’s thick hair, following every movement of the werewolf’s head. Derek closed his lips around Stiles’ cock, his cheeks hollowing slightly as he started sucking him, his head moving almost painfully slowly up and down, leaving Stiles trembling below him, his back stretched in an arch and his breath rugged and unsteady.

Just when Stiles thought he couldn’t take it anymore – his cock so deep in Derek’s mouth that his lips almost touched his base – Derek released his throbbing member with a loud popping sound, a thick trail of spit losing itself in the thick of his pubic hair and when their eyes met Stiles pulled him up, clashing their mouths together passionately. It was weird but at the same time strangely exiting to taste himself on Derek’s lips. And when Derek twisted his head and started licking over Stiles ear again, the strong sweet smell that made his inner wolf howl crawling up his nose, Stiles pushed Derek to the side, quickly climbing on top.

Eager to return to favor from a few moments ago he kissed his way down Derek’s torso, tracing his abs with his tongue, breathing in the strong smell the wolf gave off. He could feel his eyes flicker yellow as he breathed in the salty scent lingering on Derek’s crotch. He took the zipper of Derek’s black jeans between his teeth and pulled it open, shoving the hard fabric down over Derek’s tight muscles, letting them rest above his knees as he started licking over his shorts. His tongue left dark trails on the soft fabric as it traced the outline of Derek’s erection.

The older one let out a stuttered moan as Stiles closed his lips around his head, sucking him through the slick fabric while his finger dug into Derek’s thighs. Stiles would have never thought he would lick a guy’s dick, but the salty taste on his lips, thick of Derek’s musky scent, made him feel like there was no other flavor that could set his taste buds on fire like that. He wanted to taste more, to suck that aromatic scent off Derek’s dick until there was nothing left. And so he licked, nibbled, sucked until his lips felt swollen and used up.

Derek stared down at him with lust flickering in his eyes as his gaze met Stiles’. He cupped the younger ones face with his big hands silently and pulled him up until their lips met in an unexpectedly shy kiss before carefully rolling over, trapping Stiles’ below his bulky body, his weight a comfortable pressure against Stiles’ thighs. In a quick motion Derek had gotten rid of his jeans and pants, his bare throbbing cock now pressing up against Stiles’.

Their hips soon found a shared rhythm, the pressure on his cock setting Stiles’ nerves on fire and making him unable to think of anything but the heated feeling bubbling up in his lower belly. Derek buried his face in Stiles neck, taking in his scent while leaving burning marks on his pale skin. “Derek…” , Stiles heard himself mutter between needy moans that normally would make him want to disappear but now seemed the most natural thing in the world. “Please… I want you.”

The werewolf’s eyes lit up red as Derek’s long fingers closed around Stiles' ankles, pulling up his legs without further warning. He let his tip teasingly rub over Stiles’ entry, brushing against the back of his balls and sucked the whimper from the younger one’s lips. Stiles’ hands found his own dick, fingers clasping around the heated flesh and instantly moving in steady, desperate strokes that only stopped when Derek finally started pushing inside of him.

He threw his head back and let out a choked moan as he felt Derek’s cock pushing in further, stretching him apart. When he forced his head up from the pillow, his eyes locked with Derek’s, a passionate smile curling up the werewolf’s lips. “So cute…” the older one huffed, as Derek pushed in that last inch. “We’re just getting started…”

And before he knew what happened he could feel his cock jerk, spurts of white flying into his field of vision… .

 

Stiles jerked up in his bed, covered in sweat. Still having a somewhat hard time to calm down his heartbeat, he lifted his blanket with one hand and looked down at his boxers – the dark spot over his by now softening member an obvious sign that he was in _serious_ trouble.

Yes, he had thought on several occasions about Derek’s most perfect abs, his broad shoulders and his incredibly intoxicating smell - especially since the older one started climbing into his bed at night. But this was the first time he dreamed about the wolf in such an explicitly sexual way. And the first time ever he dreamed about _being done_ by someone instead of _doing_ someone.   
(A wet dream starring _Derek Hale_ devouring him. Stiles couldn’t believe it.)

Not that it was too weird after what had happened between them the other night – getting off in Derek’s arms definitely could mess with anyone’s head – , but still… Stiles wasn’t ready yet to admit to himself that _maybe_ he had finally moved on from Lydia to face a relationship that promised to be even more complicated than his crush on the perky read head. Why couldn’t he just feel attracted to _normal_ people for god’s sake? People who weren’t somehow odd but extremely popular maniacs or broody I-will-rip-out-your-throat-with-my-teeth-like-scary alphas?   
Something seriously was wrong with him.

He sighed in frustration, letting his head pop back onto his pillow. Absentmindedly he let his fingers run over his lip, tracing the ticklish feeling Derek’s lips left in his dream. It was weird how he could tell the difference between his imagination and the actual sensation of the werewolf’s sensual lips touching his own – the missing scratch of his stubble against Stiles’ skin, the careful touch of his tongue when he parted Stiles’ lips, the silent brush of his long lashes against Stiles’.

“No no no no no!” Stiles shrieked, pushing himself up on his elbows and taking a deep breath. “You better stop thinking about things like this, Stiles. This is not good. Bad Stiles. Bad, _bad_ Stiles!” And before his mind could interject with memories of Derek’s smell and therefore get him ready for another embarrassing round of proofing how unsettled his sexuality was right now, Stiles got up and made his way to the bathroom to wash up. Each step made his wet boxers cling uncomfortably to his thighs, making his steps wobbly and awkward.

Maybe in situations like this it was a good thing he now had a room all for himself.

He had been furious when he had found his things packed in front of the door after returning to their room after dinner and he had hated his dad for starting the whole discussion in the first place. He had known that he wouldn’t be able to keep his living with Derek a secret for a very long time, but he had hoped that at least his dad would listen to him and maybe finally understand that he not always knew what was best for Stiles. Living with the most mighty alpha of the region? Sure it was risky and not necessarily the best idea there was – especially when taking into account the wolf’s nightly conducts (that the Sheriff fortunately did not know about or he would have shut the werewolf with a whole magazine of mountain ash bullets) – but Stiles would have been glad to take it, just to find out what that consuming pressure he felt in his chest whenever Derek was around really meant.

He was still scared of the older one sometimes. The angry red spark of the alpha's eyes when they first met still sometimes haunted him in his dreams. Whenever he pulled a bad joke, something inside of him prepared to be thrown through the room or shoved against some wall, preparing for the ache.

But then there was also that bittersweet pull in his stomach whenever those exact red eyes stared down at him through the dark accompanied by the rustling of his sheets. The feeling of his throat getting soar a little whenever the werewolf gave the slightest hint of a smile. The ticklish feeling on his skin when Derek's body heat spread over the short distance between their arms while they lay on the bed watching movies together.

And there was Derek's almost ridiculously perfectly shaped abs, his strong hip bones, the flex of his biceps when he was bending down to kiss Stiles' neck. There were his weirdly sexy fangs, his sharp cheekbones, his sensitive and warm tongue. There was his slightly speeding heartbeat that even Stiles could hear when he pressed close, his long fingers, the expression on his face when he came.

If Stiles let himself think about it longer he would almost get the feeling...

But he knew better. It was nothing like the longing he had felt for Lydia. When he had stared at Lydia before, there had been swirly butterflies in his stomach and he had felt spaced out and all warm and fuzzy. But Derek was different. He set Stiles' nerves on fire, the sparks running through his limbs, desperately searching for something to burn, to leash out at. Derek made him feel restless, always on the edge, always hungry for something he himself didn't even know what it was...

Stiles sighed and pulled down his boxers, stepping into the shower and letting the cold of the water seep into his skin in a helpless attempt to forget about his heated dream. He washed his hair and took out the razor from the small shelf in the corner. He always had thought getting rid of any body hair was girly and kind of uncool, but seeing Derek's smoothly shaved chest had made him reconsider and after having tried it one time, he was quite amazed at how good it felt. Not that he had much chest hair to begin with, but it still felt somehow different. Somehow closer to Derek.

 

When Stiles stepped out of the bathroom he opened his laptop and put on some music to distract his busy mind. The towel wrapped around his hips, he opened his closet and stared down at the pile of clothes building up on the inside.

He wondered when he had gotten bored with his wardrobe. He used to not care too much about what he wore, but somehow the washed out bulky jeans, superhero T-shirts, checked shirts and saggy pullovers suddenly felt unfamiliar, not the cozy shelter they used to be before anymore. Maybe he should go shopping one of these days. It didn't need to be a whole new closet of designer clothes, but just one or two nice jeans, a handful of actually fitting T-shirts and some more grown-up underwear might be a good start if he ever wanted to get out of his virginity-state.

And: No. Dry-humping an unconscious Derek Hale did not count. Really. And if he ever would want _conscious_ Derek to make a move at him – not that he was aiming for that! Sure, there was some sexual tension between him and sleepwalking Derek-wolf he couldn't deny, but Stiles definitely considered himself straight. Long-lasting crush on gorgeous, perfect Lydia! Remember? - he definitely wouldn't get into the older one's pants the way he looked now.

With a frustrated pout on his lips Stiles pulled out a pair of Batman-boxers, some old blue jeans, a gray T-shirt with washed out print on front and a dark shirt to wear on top. This would do for the day. He had only two lessons anyway before he would sit down in the library to further study the material Deaton had given him the week before. Because, yes, the calm teacher hadn't forgotten about his request and actually provided him with some interesting new papers - and best of all: An old diary from the times of the war. Written by a half-blood as Stiles could tell after screening some of the pages.

When Deaton had given him the small book Stiles was really close to just pull the man into a big bear hug and never let go. Yes, the diary might turn out to be something completely different from what he was looking for, but maybe - just maybe - it helped him to find some proof about half-bloods being nothing but _used_ as scapegoats for the menace of full-blooded humans - or werewolves. No matter what that little book would tell him, it surely held quite some aspects and perspectives he hadn't gotten his hands on up until now. And this alone had been enough to make him grin like a madman for one and a half a days before shutting himself up in his room for the whole weekend reading about the life of the half-blood woman called Eliza:

It started with small paragraphs about her childhood in the countryside. About how she rebelled against her parents, about her first love, about how afraid she was to trust anyone with the information about her being a half-blood werewolf. Stiles hadn't slept the first night, but read until morning about Eliza's descriptions of her town, her school life, her inner turmoil. And just when he had gotten sleepy enough to finally put the little book down after dawn, he started reading Eliza's entry about how she found out about her boyfriend being a werewolf. How she was scared and amazed at the same time. How they had spent the first night together and he told her she was beautiful when she shifted in the heat of the moment. This phrase had set something in him on fire that held him awake for another few hours before he finally drifted off to sleep.

Stiles thought that even though Eliza, too, was a half-blood she seemed to be quite different from him: She wrote about how she cut herself in the finger as a kid and how amazed she was while watching her flesh growing back together. Stiles was envious when he read about how Eliza -quite a tomboy, that was sure even after the first few pages – had tested her healing ability to great length: Throwing herself down the stairs, slicing her skin open with her father's razor, teasing the neighbors dog until it bit her several times.

Stiles continued to read about Eliza reminiscing about her childhood after sleeping for just 3 hours and did not spare himself the entries she went in great detail about her intimate relationship with the werewolf boy. Again and again Stiles kept stumbling over her descriptions of her boyfriends smell, how it lured her in and made her feel like his arms were exactly where she belonged. She was calling it “a bond stronger than anything there is in this world”, “a spell that grows stronger every second he's near”.

And even though he first wanted to ignore his mind wandering off, Stiles had to admit that it sounded a lot like what he had experienced with Derek: The sweet smell that drew out the wolf in him and clouded his mind whenever the alpha was in his personal space. He could relate to the irresistibility Eliza was describing and maybe this was what had made his mind drift off to his gorgeous ex-roommate after sleep had finally won him over again on the second day.

 

After Stiles had brushed his teeth, leaving white spots all over the mirror but not really giving a damn about it, he took a small pile of books from the empty bed across the hallway and pushed them into his backpack. He really had no motivation to attend any classes...or even leave his room. But Scott hat left him 32 messages over the past days whining about how Stiles ignored him and reminding him of what awesome buddies they were and how he was still indebted to Scott as he covered for him when he broke two of the big flowerpots his father had loved so much. So there was nothing else but attend his two lectures and spent some overdue quality time with his best buddy.

 

"I just don't know why he suddenly threw me out like this...", Stiles started his rant. "I mean we were good as roomies! And I know I do a lot of stupid stuff that pisses people off, but I really remember nothing I could have done to him to make him that mad at me!" (Besides the nightly encounters but no one but him knew about that anyway...) “I mean... it's been like a whole week ! And even when we meet on campus, he just ignores me and walks by!”

Frustratedly he crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back in his chair. Isaac ran a hand through his hair and looked at him with shy puppy-eyes. "What?", Stiles asked, one brow raised, but Isaac stayed silent, only shifted uncomfortably in the seat next to him. "What?", he tried again, this time giving a little emphasis by turning fully to directly face the blonde. "Spit it out, for gods sake!"

Finally Isaac opened his mouth, his voice sounding a lot weaker than usual. "It's just that..." He averted his eyes and Stiles suddenly felt the immense need to grab him by the collar and shake him until the words would finally spill from his lips. "Well..." Stiles couldn't take it anymore. "Well _what_?", he shrieked, gaining an angry look from the professor in the front of the lecture hall. "What?", he repeated with a hiss after giving the prof a sorry nod.

Isaac sighed and tipped his fingers against the edge of the desk. "Well, I don't know whether this has anything to do with it, but... I _might_ have mentioned to Derek about... Matt..." Stiles stared at him a little confused for a second before letting out an annoyed groan. "Like.. really? _Matt_? That's why he's avoiding me? What the hell?"

Okay, maybe it was better to think that Derek avoided him in a sorry attempt to get creepy Matt off his ass instead of Stiles unconsciously having done something awful to majorly pissing the big bad wolf off - it actually was kind of sweet when Stiles thought about it a little longer - but Stiles still would have preferred him to just punch Matt in the face or something... the whole pretending-Stiles-doesn't-exist-thingy? Not cool.

"But why can't he settle this any other way? Like in a not-treating-me-like-a-disease kind of way?" Isaac chewed on his lips and shifted in his chair again. "... because Matt is _evil_.", he finally spit out. This obviously did not satisfy Stiles graving for a proper explanation so Isaac added: "Matt would pretty much do anything to get the top position in the area - _Derek's_ position. And I'm pretty sure he wouldn't hesitate to use you to get to him if he thinks you're close somehow."

Stiles frowned. Matt was a creep, no one would deny that after their few encounters, but it wasn't like Stiles and Derek were that close to begin with - at least out of the safety seclusion of their once shared room. "Why would Matt go after me and not someone of Derek's pack?", he wondered aloud. "You guys are obviously closer to him than I am?"

Isaac shrugged slightly. “Not that he hasn't tried that before... he tried to go after Cora, but... well... she pretty much kicked his ass. So when Derek came after them there was nothing much left to do..."

Stiles let out a huffed laugh. Yeah, this sounded a lot like the Cora Hale he knew. But as he thought a little longer about the whole story the smile fell from his face. ""Wait. So you mean I am an easier target than a girl?" He stared at Isaac with his mouth opened in shock and when the blonde just lifted his eyebrows, giving him a weak smile while shrugging his shoulders Stiles could have cried. Resigning he threw himself over his desk and groaned loudly, receiving another annoyed look from the professor again.

"I am quite a good fighter, too, ya know.", he mumbled and when Isaac bit down a grin he added a soft "Even Derek wouldn't stand a chance against me and my bat..."

 

Stiles fought with his sleep during the second lecture as no one of his friends had the same course. Instead of heading straight to the library after the professor let them off, Stiles followed Scott's whiny email and met him in the cafeteria. When he arrived, Scott almost jumped at him in joy. “Dude! It feels like ages since we hang out!”

Laughing, Stiles let himself fall into the seat opposite to where Scott's belongings were scattered over the table. “It's only been one weekend.”, Stiles reminded his friend but Scott shook his head as he sat down and pushed a drink pack in Stiles direction. “Dude, not only last weekend! Since we started here at Garnier Academy you barely spent time with me!” Scott pouted openly. “Besides eating together I hardly ever saw you...” Stiles snorted and ripped the straw from his drink, pushing it through the top of the package “You're totally exaggerating!”, he huffed but Scott dared to differ: “You spent like _all_ of your free time in your room with _Derek freaking Hale_. Did you even notice that?”

Stiles wanted to disagree, but when he thought back over the past few weeks for the first time he noticed that what Scott told him was not totally untrue: He really _had_ spent most of his evenings in his room after the mood between him and Derek had gotten lighter. He hadn't done it intentionally, but maybe he really had let his best friend down, he had to admit. “You missed me that much?”, Stiles asked with a crooked smile on his face and Scott without fail accepted on Stiles' unspoken apology.

“Of course! I think we never have spent less time with each other than in the past few weeks! If you ask me, Derek kicking you out was one of the best things that could have happened!" Stiles frowned, obviously disagreeing with his friend on this point, so Scott added hastily: "Though it sucks of course and he had no right to do that!" Stiles smiled and punched Scott affectionately in the shoulder.

"Much better!", he grinned and took another sip of his juice. "But to be frank, I still don't get why he kicked you out in the first place. You didn't fight or anything right?" They had had this conversation a few times over lunch already but never found an answer that could satisfy Scott – or Stiles.

"Isaac thinks it's because of Matt.", Stiles filled Scott in with the newest information. "He thinks Derek doesn't want me to get involved in their territory fight or something..." Scott lifted an eyebrow, obviously not too convinced of this theory. Well... neither was Stiles. "He doesn't actually strike me as a person who would give a damn...", Scott mumbled, his aversion for Derek all over his face.

"I told you he's really okay when you get to know him a little. The whole bad grumpy alpha thing is just something he does to... I don't know... protect himself or something." Scott snorted. "Yeah, because Derek Hale is such a weak flower."

Stiles chuckled. True, Derek didn't give off the aura of someone who had to protect himself, but then again there was the whole thing with his family being murdered pretty much in front of his eyes and alphas coming after him all of the time in an attempt to take his territory. Sometimes Stiles wondered how Derek could stand to be in this school that hosted a good handful of alphas from all over the country - it was after all his family's territory, had been for centuries, and he couldn't possibly be too happy about all those intruders . Having rivals living right next to him certainly was draining.

"But that Matt-guy is not creeping up on you anymore, is he?", Scott's voice interrupted his thoughts. "No. It's been fine lately, really. Though I still have the feeling he sometimes listens in on me... like the other day I talked to Allison about the culture club? I _swear_ his eyes lit up when we were talking about Deaton."

Scott thoughtfully chewed on his lips. "So still creepy ... but at least he's not openly coming at you anymore, right?" Stiles nodded.

Maybe being listened in on was something he had to get used to now that he lived in a school full of werewolves. In the culture club they had come to the conclusion that even if you _had_ the power to listen in on someone's conversation you should not make use of it. Only in extremely exceptional cases when there's a good reason for it, like reasonable suspicion of a crime or the likes. But one hardly could suspect all people who _had_ this gift would withstand the temptation.   
Hell, if Stiles had werewolf hearing he might have listened in on Lydia more than just once...

 

The conversation drifted off to the culture club, the diary Stiles was reading, lacrosse training and finally turned down to homework, essays and lousy professors. When Scott took a good five minutes to email Allison, Stiles leaned back in his seat and stared out of the window.

It had gotten a lot colder since they stated out at Garnier Academy and there were hardly any leaves left in the trees in front of the school buildings. Who would have thought time would pass this quickly? Stiles thought back to their first day in college and how most of his plans for his college life did not turn out the way he had hoped. His mind was racing, but at the same time seemed still.

“Damn, I want to do it...”, Stiles mumbled absentmindedly. He chewed on the straw of his drink pack as Scott's face turned into a shocked grimace, his mouth hanging open gasping for air. “ _What?!_ ” Only then Stiles realized what had just left his lips and his head shot up, his face just as surprised as that of his friend. “What the-?! Where did _that_ come from?!”, he shrieked and Scott just stared at him in disbelief, shaking his head. “You sure you okay?”

Stiles straightened himself over the desk and sighed dramatically. “Who knows....”

Maybe he really was broken. And maybe Derek had played a bigger role in this than he wanted to admit...


	9. Eventful nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the next chapter. Not too much more about the diary and half-bloods, but instead a bit more smut :P and important developments.  
> Hope you enjoy!!

“What's with him?”, Cora slung herself into the chair next to Scott who gave her a confused look. Allison possessively put a hand on Scott's knee, shooting Cora a warning look. But the werewolf girl just ignored her, pointing once again with her chin in the direction, where Stiles spread over the table, arms stretched out, head facing down. “Is he sick or something?”

Scott put his hand on Allison's and squeezed it in a reassuring manner while giving Cora a weak smile. “No, not really sick. Just horny.” Stiles commented with a groan. “Don't make me throw up. I'm eating here!”, Jackson interjected pointing at the half-eaten steak and the fries on his table. “I really do _not_ want to imagine Stilinski having any kind of sex-life...”. Stiles finally lifted his head and shot Jackson a deadly glare as the blonde added with a smirk spread over his face: “Not that he actually has any, though...”

“How would _you_ out of all people know whether I have a sex-life or not?”, he threw into Jackson's direction, who by now was focusing on his steak again and gave Stiles only so much of attention as to comment with a dry “Everyone who looks at you knows that.” And noticing that no one around the table seemed to disagree – not even Scott, that damn traitor! - Stiles gave them a dramatically shocked grimace and bit down any further attempts to safe his manly pride.

He hadn't known why that comment had slipped in front of Scott the other day. It's not like he was that needy. Stiles in fact was sure that, as long as you didn't have sex already there was no point in actually craving for it. But somehow it seemed like the fact that he was still a virgin – opposite to pretty much everyone he knew, he was sure – seemed to gnaw on his subconscious more than he had let himself believe. It must have been the thoughts about how all the plans he had had after entering college – you know... getting popular, dating a cute girl, having lots of mind-blowing sex... the usual. - were still lingering in the air around him, untouched. Nothing had changed after he came here. Maybe it even had turned for the worse, considering his encounters with Matt, all the shit he got by Jackson by pretty much a daily basis by now, being thrown out by his room mate after just a few weeks of living together... .The only good thing that had happened (and stayed) was his friendship with Isaac, though that put Cora in front of him more often than he could handle.

“If you're so horny why don't you do something about it?” Yes, Cora was evil. And liked to make fun of him, obviously. “Yeah, easy-peasy. Of _course_ I'll do that.”, he answered sarcastically, lifting his head again and considering just leaving the lunch table and curl up in a corner of his room. “Come on”, Allison's voice soothed him a little. “Don't act like you couldn't get someone interested in you, Stiles. If you changed your wardrobe a bit so it would bring out your boy more, I'm sure you could land a date in no time.” Jackson almost spit out his food, face shadowed with disgust. “I'm eating here!”, he reminded everyone again. Lydia just patted his shoulder, though her face showed close to no sympathy for his sensitivity. “Allison's right: Some slim pants, lighter colors to bring out your skin tone better, … could work.” Stiles lifted an eyebrow, seriously considering it: He had thought about buying some new stuff anyway...

“Well, I'd say it's a wasted effort, but...”, Cora leaned over the table and patted his shoulder. “Don't stop believing.” Her grin was wide and if Stiles hadn't been so terrified of her, he surely would've punched her face. “If you want, I could ask Derek to give you some advice? No one looks better than my brother...” The whole group gave her a ….questionable face. “That has nothing to do with his style”,Stiles waved off. “Derek could wear a garbage bag and still look good in it.” All faces now turned to him, making him feel the embarrassment rising heatedly to his cheeks. “What?! You know it's true.”, he defended himself and at least the girls around the table nodded in agreement after thinking for a second. Jackson pushed his plate away, obviously having lost all of his appetite by now.

“Then how about Danny or the twins?”, Allison offered. “They surely have a nice style?” Stiles thought about it for a second and Allison might have a point. He had only talked to them a few times during Culture Club and Stiles had felt a little intimidated by the intensive stares of the twins, but their outfits were always topnotch. And Danny at least was a nice guy – one who had talked to him now and then even back in high-school. “If you want, I could give you Danny's number?”

Stiles hesitated but received the number nonetheless. The group dispersed soon after and Stiles waved Scott and Allison goodbye before heading for his next lecture. Just when he turned around the corner of the building, a hand grabbed him and pulled him behind a tree. “What the?”, he stared at Cora's face and for a second thought he should run. Run as fast as he could. Because the way Cora's eyes pierced through him couldn't mean anything good.

“Listen, Stilinski”, she spit at him, her fingers digging deeper into his upper arm. “I don't know what happened between you and my brother, but you guys better make up soon or I swear to god I'll rip your balls off and shove'em up your ass until you can chew on them!” Stiles swallowed hard. What did he do to deserve all this? It hadn't been his idea to move out of their shared room anyway and the one doing all the ignoring wasn't him but stupid Derek. “I-”, he tried to talk to defend himself, but Cora interrupted him again. “My brother looks like shit these days and I don't know why, but it started when you changed room. So get your head out of your ass and just apologize for whatever you have done.”

Stiles wanted to yell at her that he himself would want to know what the fuck had gotten into Derek to throw him out like that and that he's sorry, but Derek looked anything but 'shit' and he had no idea why Cora had to interfere in their business anyway – but Cora had already turned around and walked away, leaving an angry and confused Stiles behind.

 

His first afternoon class started off with a message from Isaac telling him he would skip the day. Miraculously Cora, too, was nowhere to be found. But just when he spread over his desk preparing to nap for a few more minutes - introduction to research and methodology? Who needed this class anyway? - he heard the chair next to him creak and felt something warm on the back of his head. Slightly confused he looked at a cup of coffee and normally this would have made his day - if the hand offering him the beverage wouldn't be Matt. "Still asleep?", he grinned at him motioning Stiles to take the cup from his hand. As Stiles made no attempt to do so however Matt simply placed the steaming paper cup in front of him. "What do you want?", Stiles asked with more spite in his voice than intended. "What? Can't I try to make some new friends?", Matt answered with an annoyingly innocent face. "If you wanna make friends, make them somewhere else. I'm not available!" Stiles countered dryly.

"Oh, but I heard otherwise...."

Stiles didn't like the tone of Matt's voice when he said those words, neither the smirk on his lips and the spark in his eyes. "Looks like the princess was banned from the kingdom.", the alpha mused and that was just _it_ for Stiles. Not only did he have to take up with Matt creeping around, stalking him, no, now he had to take being called a _princess_? Hell no!

"If you have your panties in a knot because of Derek take it out on _him_ \- not me. Got that?", he hissed angrily and grabbed his back, moving a few chairs further.

But Matt didn't give up that easily , following Stiles movements and leaving the coffee sitting alone on the table. "Who says I'm taking anything out on you?", he lowered his head and leaned a bit closer - too close if anyone asked Stiles. "Maybe I changed my object of interest..." Stiles could feel the hair of his neck stand up in disgust. If there was one thing he didn't want to be it was Matt's _object of interest_.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" His voice cracked and Stiles could slap himself for not being able to properly cover up the fear in his tone, especially when he saw a grin spreading on the other one's face. "Aw, does little red riding hood want to scare the big bad wolf?" Matt suddenly grabbed his shoulder and pulled him closer. "Don't think you can scare me, just because one wolf eats out of your hand..." Matt studied stiles face for a second before a mocking grin spread over his face. "Or should I say: Eats _you_?"

And this was when Stiles officially panicked. He tried to calm down his heart, knowing the other could hear the vicious beat if he wanted to, but the thought of Matt of all people being the one to find out about any of the unspoken secrets between him and Derek terrified him. "You are _crazy_! You know that?", he tried to cover his stuttering heartbeat. But instead of finally giving Stiles a break, Matt's eyes lit up in excitement. "Well... I guess with you moving to another room things cooled down a little, hm?" He came uncomfortably close, his lips almost brushing against Stiles' ears while he whispered "You don't smell so delicious anymore, you know that?"

And with this Stiles was finally _done_ , shot up from his chair, grabbed his bag and left the lecture hall, almost falling over another students lap as he pushed past him.

 

Stiles spent the remaining time before his next lecture in the library browsing random books and video tapes for new information, without much success though. He could hardly concentrate, his mind always wandering off to Matt's evil grin. How much had that guy figured out? Had it just been Derek's smell on him that had given them away? Or had he listened in on them at night?

The thought alone gave Stiles goosebumps all over. And the longer he wondered about just how much the werewolf knew the more terror rose in him. What if Matt would tell on him? What if he told the other students, the teachers - or worst of all: _Derek_? Yes, the alpha had ignored him ever since the day Stiles found his bags packed, but he still hadn't given up hope that they would return to buddies again if he just believed enough in it.

And as if sent in to mock Stiles, Derek suddenly appeared from behind a shelf, two heavy looking books in his hand. Stiles found himself staring and, as their eyes met, felt weirdly nervous when he put up a hand to greet the alpha. "Hey..." was all he could come up with and Derek, after his eyes lingered on Stiles a bit too forcefully relaxed smile for a second, speed up his steps and headed for the counter. But just as he had passed the table where Stiles was sitting, he suddenly stopped and spun around, eyes wide and muscles tensed. Within the blink of an eye the books fell from the werewolf's hand and Stiles found himself pulled up from his seat and pushed hardly against a nearby shelf, books shattering on the floor. Derek stared at Stiles intensively while the other one tried to find his breath again.

"Why were you hanging out with Matt?", the older one finally spit out, his fingers a tight fist around Stiles' collar. "What?", Stiles coughed and before he could add anything else - like how inappropriate the word _hanging out_ was when it came to the creeperwolf - Derek took in a deep breath. "His smell is all over you!"

Stiles hissed and tried to pull himself from Derek's grip. “ _Excuse me_?!”, he barked. “What's it to you if that creep left some smell on me, huh? _You_ were the one to silently kick me out and treat me like shit!” The lady behind the counter next to the entrance gave them a stern look, pushing her finger angrily against her hushing mouth. But Stiles was too stressed to give a damn – he was angry at Derek who had nothing else to say to him, frustrated with himself for having felt even the slightest bit of happiness and anticipation when he had spotted the older one and utterly confused as the sweet, musky smell Derek gave off almost gave him goosebumps - , so instead of submitting to the library manners he gave Derek's chest a hard push, his eyes glaring intensely at the alpha. “You know if all of this really was just to keep Matt off my back? _Newsflash_ : It's _not_ working! So you can stop the bullshit and start talking to me like a human... like a normal being again! Got that?!”

Derek bit on his lip, his eyes glancing sideways for a moment before they locked in on Stiles face again, staring him down. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Stiles found his anticipation utterly betrayed when the werewolf turned around and simply left. Stiles could feel the frustration and anger built in his chest, standing in the middle of a mess of books, and screamed after Derek's quickly retreating figure. “You stupid little shit! Go to hell!”

He felt his eyes getting hot and stingy, but like hell he would show his disappointment openly. He blinked furiously as he bent down to pick up the books Derek had scattered all over the place, while noticing the library lady approaching with angry steps. Before he even could get up she gave him an ear full finishing her rant by telling him that if she ever found him behaving like this in _her_ library, she would ban him for life.

And Stiles hated Derek. _With a burning passion_.

 

It was about a week after Stiles had picked up and sorted a bunch of books because of stupid Derek's outburst, when a knock on his door made Stiles look up from the diary sitting in front of him on his desk. “Yeah?”, he asked sleepily, reading '00:36' on the display of the clock sitting on his nightstand. “Who is it?”, he groaned as no answer came from behind the wooden door. “Scott, if you want to talk about the latest episode of How I met your Mother _again_ , just let it go: I told you, Robin and Barney are not over yet. Just wait and see... I'll win our bet in the end!”

Just when he was about to open the door Stiles stopped in his movement, his hand resting only millimeters above the handle. What if it wasn't Scott? It was late, too late, and considering that Matt had sneaked up on him a couple of time as soon as his friends had left his side, maybe he should act a bit more careful. It surely hadn't been an accident that Isaac hadn't missed any of his classes with Stiles again after his encounter with Derek in the library. Even the werewolves thought Matt was after him, so Stiles was about to turn around, ignoring the second hasty knock on his door – better be safe than sorry, right?

But just when he was about to step away from the door, Stiles' nose caught a smell – a familiar smell. And within a second his hand was on the handle, pushing down and pulling the door open. And really: It was Derek. Derek Hale was standing in front of his room, in the middle of the night wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. His face was incredibly pale, pearls of sweat visible on his forehead.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Stiles asked, slowly reaching for the werewolf's shoulder as he watched the other one's chest move heavily under his rugged breath. And without any answer or warning, Derek lashed forward, his bright-red eyes locking in on Stiles' as he pushed the smaller boy against the wall. Their lips clashed together, Derek's tongue hungrily invading Stiles' mouth while his hot hands roamed hastily over Stiles body.

For a few seconds, Stiles just stood there, pressed up against the wall without his brain really catching up – and that really meant something considering how his mind _always_ was too busy, spitting out thoughts and comments quicker than Stiles' could handle sometimes.

When he finally came back to reality, Stiles pushed Derek a few centimeters away, allowing him to bent forward a little and shut his door before anyone could notice them. Because no matter how happy he was to find Derek at his door again after weeks of being ignored, having people find the alpha and him like _this_? That surely wouldn't help make things any easier... .

“Derek?”, Stiles tried again after hearing the click of the door falling into it's lock, but the werewolf seemed to not hear him at all. Instead he was kissing Stiles' neck, letting his expanded fangs scrape over his sensitive skin, sending shivers down his spine. “Derek... what the...” But Stiles was cut off by Derek's lips finding his own again, kissing him hard and needy. Stiles found himself pushed up the wall, his toes barely reaching the floor anymore as Derek's arm slung around his waist, steadying him against the wall.

Stiles mind went blank as Derek's tongue sent a ticklish sensation through his body. How was it even possible that someone could kiss like this? Stiles could die right that moment and wouldn't regret anything. His body was light and hot, wrapped up in Derek's scent while the older one's free hand roamed over the skin under his loose T-shirt. His lips finally released Stiles' and kissed its way along Stiles' chin and down to his neck. A deep sigh left the younger one's lips as he unconsciously lifted his head, offering his throat to the werewolf in a manner that any other would call shameless. But Stiles wasn't in any mind to care. His mind was clouded with heated lust and all he could think about was Derek's smell in his nose, Derek's fingers finding his nipple, Derek's mouth sucking hard enough on his skin to draw blood to its surface. He needed more. More of Derek.

He rolled his head and leaned into Derek's body, taking a strong sniff at the alpha's neck, bathing in the sweet but earthy scent. He could feel his eyes flicker, any sense of control having left his body the second Derek had stepped through his door. A deep moan dripped from his lips when Derek bit down on his collar bone, sending sparks through his body. His fingers dipped deep into the alpha's shoulders, hips jerking in surprise. Derek let out a stuttered moan when their erections clashed, his breath tickling Stiles' sensitive skin. Stiles threw back his head, fangs expanding as a needy groan vibrated in his throat.

The alpha rolled his hips, each movement sending shivers down Stiles' spine, and lifted his head from the smaller one's shoulder. “You....”,he huffed. “... it's you...” Stiles frowned at his words, but immediately was distracted by Derek's greedy mouth on his, sucking on his lower lips, making his limbs go numb with pleasure. He could feel his inner wolf clearer than he ever had before, pacing, growling, howling underneath his skin. His mind raced, his thoughts too fast for Stiles to catch any of them. And suddenly,without even knowing how he got there, Stiles found himself on his bed, Derek's strong body over him, his weight pressing him comfortably into the mattress.

Derek's biceps tensed when he lowered his head, his red-flashed eyes watching their hips crash together hungrily. Stiles arched his back at the sight, fingers clasping his sheets, body shaking in anticipation. “Please...”, he heard himself moan without really knowing what exactly he was begging for. All he knew was that he needed more. More friction, more excitement, more of Derek. And without further comment Derek stripped him off his clothes, leaving Stiles spread over the sheets wearing nothing but his boxers.

Stiles' finally lost it when Derek pressed his stubble against the inside of his thighs, placing sloppy kisses on his clearly visible erection. He moaned shamelessly, fingers gripping Derek's dark hair, unsure of whether to push him down deeper or pull him up. Derek opened his lips, mouthing Stiles member through the thin layer of fabric while taking in Stiles' scent. “Please!!”, the younger one begged again, causing Derek's eyes to flicker with unrelenting lust.

Derek extended his arms, grabbing Stiles by his wrists and pulling him up until he sat on the edge of his bed. A humming growl vibrated in his throat as he looked down at Stiles, eyes red and clouded with lust. He put Stiles hand on his hips as an open invitation and Stiles was too flushed to think of anything, so instead he busied his hands with getting rid of Derek's sweatpants and underwear. He harshly sucked in air when his eyes fell on the alpha's dick and something in his stomach squeezed. He leaned forward, pressing a shy kiss on the heated flesh and Derek's musky smell hit his nose again, making him feel high and flushed.

And for the next minutes he and Derek turned into a heated mess of limbs and lips, humping, kissing, sucking each others skin. Without remembering how, Stiles found himself kneeling in front of Derek moaning, the older one bent down over his back, one arm steadying him while the other one stroked Stiles in hard, quick strokes. Stiles moaned loudly, his head tilted back to allow Derek better access to his neck and ear and one hand with a hard grip at the alpha's hip, encouraging him to continue rubbing their bodies together.

He could feel Derek's throbbing member against his ass, the precum making him easily gliding through his crack. It felt weird and wrong but at the same time hot and just perfect. Derek bit down on Stiles' earlobe, eliciting a guttural moan from the younger one. Derek's hand left Stiles' dick and traced over his spine until Stiles found himself licking and sucking Derek's long fingers greedily.

Derek growled excitedly and pulled Stiles up so he would rest against his chest, back arching as his hips grinded back against the alpha's hip. Derek's hand on his dick slowed down a little while his lips found Stiles' and they kissed hard and needy. Slowly Derek's hand moved down over Stiles' dick to his balls, massaging them slightly before moving further, fingers playfully rubbing against Stiles' entrance.

The younger one hissed in surprise, his mind clearing up for a second. Terrified of what this might lead to, Stiles grabbed Derek's arm and pulled it away a bit, receiving a disagreeing grunt from the alpha. “No, Derek!”, he begged. He couldn't let Derek do this while he wasn't himself. They shouldn't be doing anything at all, to be frank. This was wrong. This was all way too wrong.

“I want you...” Stiles heard Derek whisper in his ear, sending shudders down his spine and he felt like melting, but he couldn't allow himself to just go with the flow. Not when Derek was basically sleep-walking. Taking advantage of a person out of their mind was pretty close to rape. And no matter how painfully erected he was and how much Derek spurred him on, Stiles couldn't allow them to go all the way like this. Especially not when it would be his first time. “Please, don't...”, Stiles begged again, trying to ignore the wave of lust taking over again as Derek's other hand caressed his right nipple.

Derek lowered his head, burying it in the base of Stiles' neck, taking a deep breath through his nose. Stiles eyelashes fluttered under the sensation and he unconsciously pressed back. Derek grunted and turned Stiles head until they faced each other. For a few seconds they just stared at each others eyes while their bodies, slowly, moved against each other. Their lips met again in a soft kiss, Derek's fingers playing with the soft hair on Stiles' neck. Stiles opened his lips slightly, allowing the alpha to lick teasingly over his fangs before kissing him deeper and more wantingly again.

The alpha rolled his hips in bigger movements again, his fingers twisting Stiles nipple, and soon Stiles was intoxicated with pure want again, his own hand tightly wrapped around his shaft, moving desperately up and down while Derek massaged his balls. “Derek...”, Stiles moaned an leaned back his head, his hand moving faster. The alpha greedily took in the younger one's smell and started nibbling on his already bruised neck.

Stiles felt his head spinning already, the squeezing feel in his lower stomach indicating that he was close. He took in a sharp breath, eyes going wide with surprise as he felt a finger push past his entrance. He clenched at Derek's finger, his hand reaching behind him, gripping tightly at Derek's hair. The sensation was weird but it triggered something inside of Stiles, making his heart flutter and his body shake. It felt like if Derek wouldn't hold him up, he wouldn't have any strength left to support the weight of his own body.

“Oh god...” His voice was scratchy and a lot lower than Stiles remembered it to be. He could feel Derek smile against his ear, hot breath tickling his flushed skin as the finger slowly pressed deeper inside of him. After a few seconds of getting used to the unknown feeling, Stiles hand started moving on his dick again. Derek obviously enjoyed the feeling of Stiles hot body trembling in his arms as his own hips stuttered forward slightly and his breath turned rugged against Stiles ear.

Carefully the finger started moving inside Stiles, making the younger one whimper. Derek's hips moved hungrily against Stiles ass, his dick slick with precum, rubbing his smell deep into Stiles' tender skin while his finger dug a bit deeper and twisted a bit to the right until Stiles' eyes rolled backwards and his muscles tensed. Stiles jerked himself messily, the feeling of Derek brushing against his sweet spot all he was able to think of. “Oh god, I... I'm... “, he muttered but it was a late warning as the first spurs of cum already flew from his dick, painting faint white lines over his torso.

Derek let out a deep growl and shuddered against the small body in his arms, releasing hot and stickily over the small of Stiles' back. Derek bit down hard on Stiles' neck in the process, which made Stiles gasp and an overwhelming orgasm rushed through his body, crushing at his skin and making his member throb hard enough to leave white traces up to his chin. Exhausted both of them collapsed on the bed and Derek rolled over, pulling Stiles still trembling body closer.

 

After he came down what surely was the hardest orgasm he ever experienced, Stiles mind slowly started working again and a few seconds of silent reconstruction of what exactly had happened just now panic rose in him. Before opening the door he had clearly still remembered how there was more than just one reason to be careful with Matt on his heels all of the time. So how did Derek – stupid ignoring bastard Derek! - end up in his room, sexing him up without him having put up any resistance? The thought of Matt maybe having listened in on all their moaning and grunting made his toes turn cold. But what scared him even more was something different: What would Derek do to him if he woke up and found himself in Stiles room reeking of sex when he had made it more than clear that he wanted for him to stay away?

Stiles swallowed hard, his eyes searching for Derek lying next to him on his side, his big hand resting carefully on Stiles hip. His eyes were half closed, its red lazily shining through his dark lashes, and the steady heap of Derek's muscular chest indicated that the alpha would soon fall asleep again. A part of Stiles wanted him to stay awake, to continue caressing his skin with tender strokes of his fingers. But he knew that staying with Derek like this was dangerous. For whatever the thing between him and non-sleepwalking Derek was...

When Derek's eyes finally fell shut and his breath turned slow but stead, Stiles let his fingers trace the line of his chin once more before peeling himself from Derek's arms and searching his desk for the deodorant wipes he had kept even after having been kicked out of their shared room. And hell was he happy he still owned them, as he carefully wiped down Derek's body trying to erase his smell from the older one's skin. His mind began racing, blood rushing through his veins, making his hands tremble slightly. How was he ever supposed to get Derek back to his room? He had barely been strong enough to carry his bulky body to the other side of the room... moving him to a room on a different floor? Absolutely impossible. There was no way he could do this on his own... .

When Stiles thought he finally couldn't smell himself on Derek anymore – he ignored the sad feeling squeezing his chest – he pulled the gray sweatpants back on Derek and opened the window in an attempt to weaken the smell of sex in his room. He picked up his phone from the nightstand,his fingers quickly moving over the screen. 'I'm calling a no-questions-asked.', he typed. 'Come to my room and bring Derek back to his room.' His finger stopped for a second hesitatingly but after taking a deep breath Stiles pushed sent and ran a hand through his hair.

After it hit him that Scott soon would stand in front of his door, he ran for the bathroom. He, too, needed to get cleaned up. Scott would find it weird enough that Derek was sleeping in his room, he didn't have to know Stiles' sin on first sight.... Stiles pushed the switch and turned on the light. He pushed the package of wipes on the edge of the sink, one hand already busying itself with wiping the most obvious strains from his lower belly. But he remembered that some of his cum hat also hit higher, so he wiped also all over his chest and finally reached for the soap, preparing to wash his face. When he looked up in the mirror though his movements abruptly stopped.

“No....”, he whispered shocked. “This can't be.” The soap slipped from his hand as Stiles stared at his reflection, eyes a sparkling yellow and fangs showing between his half opened lips. As if to make sure that the reflection was really his own, Stiles lifted a hand, running his fingers over one of his fangs, too shocked to even care about how his skin was covered in kiss and bite marks all over. His heart raced as his mind finally started working again. _Scott was on his way over_. He needed to calm down. He needed to draw his wolf back. He needed to look _normal_. Scott couldn't see him like this. Not in his wolf form. No one could. He needed to calm down.

Stiles closed his eyes and took deep breaths, trying to concentrate. He knew he could do this, his father had trained with him for years. He clenched his teeth, breathing more slowly. But when he opened his eyes, they still stared back yellow at him. “Why can't I do this?!”, Stiles whined, panic taking over. He tried again, but his face simply didn't want to turn normal.

A small beep from his phone signaled a new message. 'Be right there. U ok?' Shit. Stiles was about to freak out, hands shaking, pulse speeding. 'Door is open. Just pick him up and bring him to his room. K?' Stiles fingers typed after a few seconds. He ran for the door, unlocking it so it could be pushed open without a key or anything. He just had to stay hidden. If Scott listened to him and simply brought Derek back, he would have enough time to calm down and shift back. This could work. It had to work.

But when Stiles, hiding out in the locked bathroom, heard the door open and footsteps making their way into the room stopping after just a few steps. Stiles held his breath. 'Just do what I asked you to', he begged in his mind. But instead of walking up to the bed to pick Derek up as asked, Stiles heard his friends footsteps walk back again, stopping in front of the bathroom door and for a second, Stiles panicked as he grew unsure whether the person in his room actually was Scott at all. There he had had the Matt-is-a-creeper-so-you-better-watch-out-talk with pretty much everyone around him and then he leaves the door open in a delicate situation as this one? He felt like banging his head against the wall. But just at that moment he heard a familiar voice.

“Stiles?”, Scott whispered through the door and Stiles felt like banging the door open and hug Scott for being himself. But in his current state that would be more than just stupid. So instead he scrunched closer to the door. “Scott. I said no questions asked. Just get him out of here!”,he hushed, but Scott didn't seem to know the concept of a no-questions-asked, even though he owed Stiles a couple of them – and Stiles had done tons of no-questions-asked for Scott, even when it involved driving to the next city and throwing a huge black bag into the lake there or picking up a blue-haired Scott wearing a dotted sundress and high heels who is running from a furious cow. (Hell, Stiles thought he really didn't _want_ to know anything about that one.)

“Stiles, what the fuck is this?”, Scott tried again. “No questions asked, Scott!”, Stiles answered louder than he wanted. But instead of just listening to him, his best friend continued to waste precious time by asking him stupid questions. “Stiles, why are you hiding in there? Did he do something to you?” There was a pause and Stiles thought he could hear Scott smell the air. “Oh my god.”, he heard Scott from the other side of the door. “Oh my god, Stiles, don't tell me Derek...” “NO! God damnit” Stiles really was about to lose his temper. “Scott, just do what I asked you and everything's fine, okay? Just. Get. Him. Out. Okay?”

“Not until I see you're fine.” Scott insisted and Stiles really banged his head against the door this time. “Please, Scott”, he begged once more but Scott didn't let up. And time was running. And with them talking so loudly it was only a matter of time until Derek would wake up and all hell would break loose. “Open the door, Stiles!” Scott demanded, his voice shaking a little. Stiles told him no, but the werewolf just didn't let it go and before Stiles could really understand what happened, Scott had somehow managed to open his door (In any other situation Stiles would have thought picking a lock with wolf nails would be awesome.) and Scott pressed into the bathroom.

“Why the hell are you so...” But Scott's words died the second he took in Stiles' face and his jaw dropped. “Oh my god, Stiles...”, he whispered after a few seconds of staring at Stiles averted face. “Did _he_ do that?” Stiles face shot up, staring at Scott in disbelieve.

“Did he _bite_ you?” Scott growled lowly, his body shifting with obvious anger.

 


	10. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry to have been making you wait so damn long for this chapter. I wanted to update two weeks ago already, but found some flaw in the way I had planned the story. So I tried my best to get things right which lead to me having to delete almost half of what I had written for this chapter as it would have created conflicts with some of the future plot. I tried to make up for it in the next days but then, well, to say it simple: A lot of shit came down in real life and it left me neither with the time nor any motivation to work on the fic... . I'm really so sorry and promise I always try to update as soon as possible... but as life just is sometimes it keeps you too busy to have any creativity left. I hope this will not happen again and I have straightened out the plot. The next chapter hopefully will come around a lot sooner than this time.
> 
> Also I want to thank everyone who commented on this fic so far! You're comments really motivate me a lot and I will try to answer all of those I haven't been able to answer yet. Thanks for sticking around with this fic and leaving such warm words and comments! It means a lot to me!!! <3

“ _Did he bite you_?”, Scott repeated, anger sparking his eyes a bright red. Stiles grabbed him by his wrists, fearing he would run out and punish Derek for something he hadn't done. Derek hadn't done anything. All of this situation was Stiles fault. And while he hated himself quite a lot for not having been more cautious, a part of him was happy that Scott found out about him.

“Scott, I promise I will tell you _everything_...”, Stiles begged, stressing how much he needed Scott to just be his best friend right now by putting some pressure in his grip. “Just please, _please_ bring Derek back to his room before he wakes up?” Scott held his breath for a few seconds, studying his friends features,his eyes wandering from his fangs to his inhuman eye color. And after he took in the pleading look in Stiles' eyes he let out a deep sigh and nodded.

“I _swear_ if you don't tell me everything about.... _this_ ”, he gestured to Stiles, well, everything. “I'll be at Derek's throat making him spit out the truth faster than you can fart.” And with this Scott was gone from the bathroom (damn that werewolf speed) and Stiles felt his knees suddenly give in. This day – or better night – was way too much for him. He wanted to sort his thoughts, find the right words to explain everything to Scott, but before he even could get back to his feet again he heard the door of his room falling shut and Scott stood in the entry, giving him an expecting look.

“So... who was it?” Scott's voice was low and a bit croaked. “Who turned you?” Stiles sighed and pulled himself up and sat on the closed toilet seat. He stared down at his naked legs sticking out from his boxers and absentmindedly wiggled his toes. “It's not what you think...”, he mumbled, unable to look in Scott's face. “I wasn't turned by anyone...” He could basically feel Scott's frown. Slowly he lifted his eyes and looked at his reflection in the mirror hanging above the sink. After a couple of seconds in silence his eyes wander from his own pale face to that of his best friend, standing behind him, patiently. “I was born this way.”, he takes one more deep breath before he turns around to directly face Scott whose face openly shows his confusion. “I'm a half-blood, Scott.”

"What the hell are you talking about?", Scott shrieked. "You're human!" Stiles sighed and ran his hand over his face. "A part of me, yes..." Scott stared at him in disbelief. "Dude, if you want to cover for Derek - just stop it. He's not worth it and you really creep me out here..." But Stiles stayed silent, his eyes resting apologetic on his best friends face. Scott stared at him for a second, then sat down in front of Stiles, letting out a deep sigh.

"You're really...?" Stiles nodded in silence, pumping his numb fingers nervously. He had played this situation through thousands of times in his mind already, every possible scenario his busy mind had been able to come up with. But now that Scott really sat before him, studying his inhuman features, he simply couldn't figure out what to say.

"Since when do you know?", Scott asked weakly and Stiles swallowed.

"Since I was twelve?" He regretted it the second the words had left his lips and his best friends face turned pale. He could see how hurt Scott was, how betrayed he felt thinking about all the situations since they had been kids where Stiles could have told him the truth but had decided not to. "I'm so sorry...", Stiles whispered, voice trembling. Scott didn't meet his gaze.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Stiles sighed and slumped his shoulders. "You really have to ask? You know what they do with half-bloods..." Scott's head shot around, eyes an angry red. "We're _friends_ goddammit! At least I _thought_ we were!" He bit down on his lower lips as his eyes clouded with sadness that Stiles never had wanted to seed. "You really think I would have just sold you out? Damn, you're my best friend!" Stiles swallowed the tears that were building up inside of him. And when Scott was about to avert his eyes again, Stiles just lashed forward and pulled him in a tight hug. "I wanted to tell you, believe my i did! Thousands of times! But I was _scared_ , okay? I... I myself didn't even know how to deal with that. I just was scared that you... I was scared that you wouldn't see me, _Stiles_ , anymore but only _half-blood_ me..."

Scott took some deep breaths before he, too, put his arms around his best friends slightly trembling body. "I, too, was scared to tell you when I was bitten...", he mumbled and at first Stiles was upset because it sounded like an accusation, like Scott judging him for having kept quiet when he himself had opened up to him, but then he decided to read it as his best friend telling him that he understood how hard it must have been for him to keep his true self hidden.

“But... what the hell was Derek doing in your room?” Scott frowned and pulled back enough to stare at his friend's face. Stiles opened his mouth, searching for words but before he could say anything Scott's eyes caught the dark hickeys burning around his neck and wrinkled his nose. The werewolf's eyes went wide, his jaw falling. “Oh my god...”, he gasped and Stiles was almost offended by how Scott suddenly pulled even further away. “It- It's not what you think...”, Stiles tried to calm him down, but Scott didn't really listen to him. “Oh my god!!!”, his voice got louder and skipped a few octaves. “Oh my....!!! You're hooking up with him?!”

Stiles gulped and stared at his toes, which suddenly had turned incredibly cold. “We're not...” Stiles licked his lips and searched for some explanation that wouldn't make him sound like a predator taking advantage of a helpless creature. “Dude, you have his signature all over you... it...I... I can't believe you're doing it with.... with _Derek Hale_! I mean you...” Suddenly Scott's freak-out silenced and Stiles found a shocked expression on his best friends' face when he dares to look up again.

“You...”, Scott whispered, eyes resting on Stiles' betrayed and hurt. “You told _him_ , but not me?”

The weak sound of his best friend's voice broke Stiles heart and he furiously shook his head. “No... he...he doesn't know...”, he uttered, tears framing his eyelashes as he desperately tried to blink his emotions away. “ _No one_ knows...”

Scott frowns even harder. “How can he not know?”, he asked almost inaudible. “You were like this with him in here, weren't you?” Stiles let out a stuttering breath, turning his head as far as he could so he didn't have to face Scott while telling him what he was about to admit. „Derek doesn't even know he was here...“, he whispered, voice low and shaky. “He... he wasn't conscious.” Stiles bit down on his lips. “He never is...”

After what seemed like an eternity, Scott broke the silence that had descended on them. He ran a hand through his messy hair, obviously having a hard time processing the information Stiles just gave him. “What... what do you mean? Does he come here when he's drunk or... on some kind of drugs?”

Stiles still couldn't look him in the eyes, so he stared at the shampoo bottle sitting on the edge of his shower, ashamed and self-conscious. “No, he.... he sometimes get's nightmares and starts sleepwalking.”, he sighed. “For some reason he is able to calm down when he's with me, which is why he finds me even now, when we don't live together anymore...” Scott lifted a hand stopping Stiles words. “He comes over to screw you when he has nightmares?”

This didn't sound right, especially not with the disgusted sound of Scott's voice, so Stiles tried again. “It... he's not the one at fault... I... we...” “No, Stiles”, Scott interrupted with a low growl rumbling in his throat as he forced Stiles to look at him. “You're not taking the blame for this, got that?” He stared at Stiles angrily, his jaw twitching. “Derek _obviously_ is the one at fault. I mean... he obviously uses you, because _that_ ”, he gestured angrily at Stiles' abused neck. “definitely does not look like sleepwalking!” But Stiles lowered his head, his face turning an unnatural blue-ish white. “He's not conscious and I never... I never really fought back or anything, so you can't blame him. It's...” Scott squirmed his eyes while his mind put together the information Stiles sprinkled onto him and suddenly his mouth fell open. “You...”, he gasped. “You _like_ him.”

Stiles head shot up in surprise and his mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he was able to mumble something in denial. “Dude”, Scott put a comforting hang on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly. “ _you like him_.”

  
Stiles stood under the shower, letting the cold of the water seep into his skin. He felt weak and worn out and just utterly tired. He had known that what he felt towards the grumpy alpha had been something different from friendship – hell he let Derek into his bed more than just one time by now! - but he had always avoided thinking deeper about it. He had waved their nightly activities off as Derek's unconsciousness being confused and himself being just more than ripe to finally get some sexual action. And that he sometimes wasn't able to keep himself from watching the older one out of the corners of his eyes was nothing else but lingering cautiousness and his normal curiosity.

Yes, Stiles had done a good job at avoiding to think any deeper about what that thing between him and Derek was. He had known it somehow so it shouldn't have been a surprise for him, but when Scott had spoken the words aloud his mouth had gone dry. And without even noticing the tears that had build up just started running over his cheeks. Scott had frowned, his sad puppy-eyes on his best friend, as he pulled Stiles in a tight hug. They hadn't talked. Scott just held him until Stiles shoulders finally stopped shaking and his breath came back steady.

“Stiles”, Scott finally said in a low voice as Stiles tried to wipe some of the tears and snot off his shirt. “You know for me nothing has changed, right?” His eyes were straightforward and Stiles felt like hugging him again, but held back and instead answered with a simple “Thanks, dude.” The werewolf ran a hand through his hand and put on a slightly dopey smile before his face turned serious again. “I know I shouldn't meddle in whatever it is between you and Derek. But I think you, too, know that you need to stop this.” Stiles let out a deep sigh. “I know.... it's just...it's not that easy...”

He had tried to explain to Scott how Derek looked for him unconsciously whenever he had nightmares, how it started off totally innocent but at some point started to turn into what it was now... and how bad he felt for taking advantage of him, but how at the same time just couldn't stop himself from answering to Derek's advances. “It's that smell, I tell you... something about him smells just incredibly good and it makes me unable to concentrate on anything anymore.”

Scott frowned. “You mean like...pheromones or something?” Stiles shrugged , but nodded. “It's not like I do it totally unwillingly...”, he admitted slightly embarrassed. “I mean... Derek is just... _Derek_.” He looked at Scott, hoping to find him understanding what he wanted to say, but the werewolf just stared at him blankly, a frown on his face. Yeah...maybe their views on Derek Hale were too different after all. But Stiles was too worn out to go into any more explanation at this point, so he just let it go. “It's just that even though I want to stop - not that I don't like it! It feels incredible... he really knows what he's doing I guess!” Scott made a disgusted face at that and Stiles cleared his throat. “Sorry. Not the topic. It's not that I want to stop because I don't exactly like what we do, but more because... well.. it doesn't feel right. He doesn't know what he does after all....”

“Are you sure about that?” Scott asked him and even as Stiles washed away the traces of Derek's smell on him now, he still didn't have an answer to the question. Derek couldn't possibly know what he as doing. He couldn't, Stiles was sure. It wouldn't make sense. But Stiles couldn't seem to stop thinking about those words. Maybe, just maybe these complicated feelings on his side were not a hundred percent one-sided after all?

 

Stiles had hoped things would have changed after Derek had visited him the night before, but when he met Derek the next day on campus, he walked right past him without even glancing at him. Stiles felt the muscles in his jaw tensing, anger rising in him. Yes, Derek might be sleepwalking and he couldn't really blame him for not changing his attitude but still: He felt used. But what could he do but swallow his hurt feelings and running through his classes as usual?

In his first class he could feel Cora's eyes on him the whole time. After half an hour had passed without her speaking up about whatever it was that was bothering her, he turned around and gave her an annoying look. “ _What_?” She lifted her eyebrows in an attempt to look innocent. “Nothing...”, she mumbled but after Stiles continued to give her an exasperated look she let out a little sigh and pursed her lips. “I thought maybe Derek and you made up?” Stiles felt his heart skip a beat – she couldn't have known, right? Had maybe everyone overheard Derek's nighty visit? (They were werewolves after all...) His fingers went cold and his face turned an unhealthy white. “No.”, he answered though clenched teeth. It was the truth after all: They hadn't made up. They hadn't even talked. Derek still ignored him like an asshole and Stiles had no idea why.

“...hm...” is all Cora offered him as comfort before averting her eyes lost in thought. Stiles must have been frozen in the spot for a few seconds looking miserable because suddenly he could feel a comforting hand on his upper arm. When he looked up he saw Allison giving him a weak, encouraging smile he couldn't help but return. “It's gonna be alright.”, she said in a low but utterly soothing voice and somehow Stiles could understand why Scott was so taken in by her. She had this weird ability to just pick up any feeling, no matter how hidden, and act on it in the appropriate manner. “Thanks.”, he mumbled and the weird tug in his chest seemed to ease up.

At lunch break Scott, Lydia and Jackson joined their table as usual (Stiles didn't know why Jackson pretended to always be so annoyed with all of them – after all the fact that he sat with them every fricking day told a totally different story.) and Stiles mood got lighter when he watched Lydia throwing Jackson some mean comments while Scott and Allison were simply unable to not have their hands over each other which Jackson commented with a few gagging noises before wincing at Lydia's heel digging into his sneakers.

Stiles spotted Isaac's blonde hair at the other end of the cafeteria and easily made out Cora and the tall guy Boyd next to him. When he spotted Erica and Derek walking up to their table his heart sank a little. The more often he watched Erica, the less he liked her. Could she try to not be all googly-eyes on him? And what was that? Did she just _lean into_ him? Gosh, Stiles hated her. Scott gave him a small nudge and Stiles turned his head around to look at the worried eyes of him and Allison. Jackson and Lydia seemed too busy to fight over the flavor of the new soda to care. “All good.”, he mumbled slightly embarrassed and focused on his plate again but his appetite suddenly had left him.

“Oh by the way?”, Lydia interrupted his lost-in-thought-ness after a few minutes. “I talked to Danny and the twins because of your wardrobe...” A grin spread wide over her face, showing her perfectly white teeth beneath her pink-colored lips. “They would love to do a good deed and help you dress like a human being.” Stiles lifted an eyebrow. “That's what they said?” Lydia nodded and pointed her fork at him. “Those exact words. If you're free this week they'd join us on a shopping spree. I vote for Friday.” Stiles looked confused now. “ _Us_? You mean...”

“Of course I'll join in.”, she interrupted her and gave him a dramatically offended look. “If there is fashion volunteering going on, the queen of fashion should attend, right? Who knows what you'll end up buying otherwise...” Stiles sighed but somehow he was glad that he didn't find himself alone with Danny and two alphas, but having Lydia as mental support – even if Jackson looked like he just waited to get a hold of him in some dark back alley and beat the shit out of him.

 

Two days later Stiles waited in front of the Mall leaning against his jeep. He pulled his scarf a bit tighter around his neck to keep the icy cold out (and his still more than just visible hickeys hidden) and looked at his phone. He had texted Danny a couple of minutes ago and got an answer stating they were on their way. To be frank, he didn't really understand why they couldn't just drive all together. (Lydia had snorted at him when he offered her a ride and said something really ugly about his jeep that Stiles tried hard to block from his memory. For the record: His CJ was _awesome_!)

After what felt like an eternity Aiden's car showed up and after it parked next to Stiles' jeep and Lydia emerged from the passenger seat before Danny and Ethan climbed out from the backseats. “Sorry we're a bit late. We had some...well... trouble.”, Danny said glancing at Lydia who just innocently threw back her hair, ignoring Stiles' questioning look.

 

“How about this one?”, Lydia asked and pulled out a pair of jeans, tighter than Stiles would have ever chosen himself. He liked the color though, a dark ash-like blue, and the jacket she pulled from a hanger next, a black sweat-like jacket with a short collar with an asymmetric zipper running up the front,made Stiles lift his eyebrows in approval. Danny looked at Stiles' figure and nodded. “Agree. That could work on you. And.... this, too.” He held up a white shirt with a bright red, but simple print on it. Ethan leaned over his shoulder and grinned. “Who knows, you might actually look doable after this.”

Stiles wanted to punch his face or at least say something really mean back, but before he even had his mouth open Lydia shoved two more shirts against his chest followed by another pair of jeans and a pullover. “Time to try on”, she said, her tone not leaving him any space to disagree. “The fitting rooms are that way.” Knowing that he couldn't go against Lydia anyway, Stiles let himself be pushed towards the back of the store and stumbled into one of the small cabins. He pushed all the items in his arms onto the small chair in the corner and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay”, he sighed and pulled the jeans from before out of the pile of clothes. “Let's get this over with.”

He pulled of his clothes and started pulling on the jeans. The tight fit was something he wasn't used to and his boxers kind of bulked around his hips, but it wasn't like they were totally uncomfortable and just one look in the mirror ensured him to spent the 80 bucks – his ass looked marvelous! At first he pulled out a dark blue v-neck-shirt, but he felt weirdly exposed by the low collar, especially with his neck still looking all abused, so it was quickly off again and pushed in the far end of the chair. His hands searched through the pile and finally found what he had been looking for. With a short pull the T-shirt was on, the soft fabric stretching over his chest and biceps.

Stiles turned in front of the mirror, stretching his muscles a bit and watching the white fabric move along. Danny had a good eye for stuff like this after all: The shirt was a perfect fit and it really shaped his body perfectly. Hell, if he would see himself in a club somewhere he would seriously think about making a pass at himself.

“Looking sharp, Stilinski!” A voice startled him suddenly and as he turned around he found Ethan grinning, his arms dangling from the top of the door holding on to some more clothes. His eyes wandered from Stiles socks over his jeans to his shirt and when they locked in on his bruised neck the grin of the werewolf's face turned wider. “Looks like someone thinks you're doable already, huh?” Stiles pulled up the collar of his shirt in a weak attempt to hide the hickeys, his face turning hot with embarrassment. “What the hell, dude?! I'm changing here!”, Stiles shrieked but Ethan just shrugged. “Who knew you liked the aggressive type...”, he mused obviously enjoying the bright red creeping up Stiles' cheeks and ears.

“Just...”, Stiles let out the breath he hadn't really realized he had kept. “... _please_?” Ethan grinned, staying silent but after a few seconds he nodded. “Alright, I'll keep quiet. You just try these on” He pushed the clothes in his hands towards Stiles, who took them and turned around quickly as a silent plea for Ethan to go back to mind his own business. When the werewolf granted him his wish and vanished from the door, Stiles went back pulling on shirts and jeans and pullovers and jackets.

The black jacket really was the cherry on the top of everything. It was more expensive than what he had thought he wanted to spent but he was more than sure he would get it together with the first pair of jeans, the t-shirt with the red print, the black t-shirt with a simple checked band running over the chest and the bright-red sweat-jacket with the huge hood. “How is it?”, Lydia chirped from behind the wooden door. “Do we got a show or what?”

Stiles pushed the door open a little, pushing his head out. “You'll see it when I wear it to class, okay?”, he tried to convinced her, but who was he able to kid? If Lydia wanted to see him wearing the clothes she chose, she would get to see him – so after 5 minutes of useless arguing Stiles put on the Jeans and the T-shirt again, pulled up the zipper of the jacket and slung his scarf around his neck before he pushed open the door to present his new style to Lydia, Danny and the alpha-twins.

Lydia's eyes lit up in excitement, obviously liking what she saw, while Danny folded his arms in front of his chest and pursed his lips slightly. The twins shared a look and nodded, Stiles not liking how the corner of Ethan's lips twitched, the werewolf obviously biting down a grin. “You look great, Stiles”, Lydia finally released Stiles from the uncomfortable silence around him. “Really, who knew you hid real muscles under those washed out shirts all that time? But this”, she pointed at the bulb his boxers made under the fabric of his jeans. “is definitely something we should get rid off, so pay up! We're buying you new underwear.”

Stiles wanted to protest, but Danny just lifted an eyebrow and - much to Stiles frustration – agreed with Lydia. “Even back in High School your boxers were an eyesore... wearing them even after turning 20? No wonder you're a virgin...” Aiden turned around, uttering something about too much information as he followed Lydia who had already walked to the exit, a floor map in her hands. Ethan instead finally couldn't hold his grin back anymore, as he put an arm around Danny's shoulder. “Oh, who knows... maybe our sweetheart here already got some without any of us noticing.”

Danny turned to stare at him, then faced Stiles again, both eyebrows up now. “Who?”, was all he asked. Stiles tried to calm his heart as he let out an embarrassed grunt and pushed past the two boys towards the cashier. It wasn't like he had areal answer anyway and with two werewolves around – one obviously interested enough to listen in on his heartbeat in order to check whether whatever he said was the truth or not – he really didn't want his life to get more complicated than it was already.

Stiles smiled politely at the girl behind the counter as she folded his clothes carefully before putting them into the paper bag. She was cute – long eyelashes over greenish-grey eyes, nose sprinkled with freckles and orange colored lips spread into a shy smile – but Stiles didn't feel like even trying to chat her up with Ethan's eyes lingering on his neck all too obviously. He hesitatingly put 280 bucks on the table and waited for his change and receipt. “Speed up!”, Lydia shouted from the entrance. It looked like she had found their next destination inside the mall already, impatiently tapping her foot. “Alright, alright...”, Stiles mumbled, rolling his eyes before he took the bag from the girls hand with a apologetic shrug.

They moved up to the third floor and Stiles felt somehow frustrated looking at the others in front of him, standing paired up while chatting the whole way up the escalator. Danny and Ethan obviously had something going on, even though they never had made it public or anything (not that Stiles couldn't understand. It was still hard for a lot of mixed couples to come out in public, too many speciesists still out there shoving their retrogressive opinions into ones face or even get physical.) and Lydia and Aiden looked a bit too much of a good fit for Stiles liking. Hell, he even felt a bit bad for Jackson watching the flirty atmosphere between them... .

Only he was standing behind, alone. And the hickeys on his neck suddenly felt cold and itchy and the shopping-enthusiasm he had felt after finding the black jacket ebbed away. Just one more shop, he told himself. Just one more and he'd find some excuse to drop out of the shopping spree, get home and just watch a movie or something. Without really paying attention to Lydia's lecture about underwear he followed the group to the underwear store. Just as Lydia was starting to going through some of the shelves in the back, her phone rang and she pursed her lips.

“What?!”, she greeted the caller, her voice overflowing with annoyance and a hint of anger. A low voice cracked through the line and Lydia rolled her eyes. “I told you it's nothing! We're just buying stuff for Stiles!” She turned away from the crowd and Stiles gave the others a questioning look. Danny sighed and formed the words 'Jackson' and suddenly Stiles thought he understood what the 'trouble' was that had made them come late. Well, it wasn't like he couldn't understand Jackson being jealous: Having one's girlfriend going out with a bunch of dudes- two of them Alphas on top of that – wasn't really something that would make anyone leap with joy.

“Get your head out of your ass, damnit!”, Lydia hissed and walked away, her hand pressed over where she spit words into the speaker of her phone. The boys almost simultaneously let out a deep breath, shrugged their shoulders and continued looking at underwear.

“How about this?”, Aiden asked, holding up a black and red trunk at which Stiles made an offended face. “That's just.... Like really? _See-through_?! You for real?” The others just grinned as Stiles shook his head. “No way in hell. I'm not a stripper.” Aiden shrugged, a huge grin on his face, and pulled out an eye-blindingly metallic-pink thong. “Ya know, If you _were_ a stripper I'd be suggesting this one.”

Ethan gave his twin an approving fist bump while Danny just shook his head lightly and pulled out a pair of red trunks with bold white seams followed by a pair of black Hugo Boss trunks and a black-gray checked micro trunks with the Armani logo spread over the waistband. “I think we should go simple on him. Anything too flashy would just make him look ridiculous.” As Danny's eyes followed Stiles', he added: “And nothing comic-related. Please.”

Stiles sighed, but found himself pleased enough with Danny's choice, though he wasn't too sure whether they would suit him. He never had worn anything but boxers – besides that one time in High School when his curiosity had made him try on jocks. Well, he had immediately known that _that_ certainly was not matching his definition of comfortable underwear!

He let the guys around him shove some more underwear into his arms and took a pair of black shorts from the shelf himself as they kind of reminded him of Derek's which he had found on their first day as room-mates. “Better try them on before Lydia comes back”, Danny grinned and Stiles made his way to the fitting room. But just as he had tried on the red and white trunks, the door behind him suddenly was shoved open and Lydia stood before him. “I could have been naked!”, Stiles shrieked and waved his arms around in a poor attempt to cover his body. Too late he remembered about his hickeys. Lydia frowned at him while Danny just exchanged glances with Ethan. Aiden didn't seem to react at all to the bruises on his neck and as the other one's, too, seemed to bite down any comments they had, Stiles tried to play it cool and put down his hands.

“I'd say take them.”, Lydia broke the uncomfortable silence that had settled around them and Stiles smiled a bit too excited about Lydia giving him something that kind of sounded like a compliment when looking at him in nothing but trunks. Okay. Now he felt weirdly conscious. But just as he wanted to take a calming breath another familiar face popped up from behind the twins. “Wow, I always thought you're more of a boxer-type...”, Cora chirped, a grin plastered all over her face. “Who would've known you shop in the same store as my bro.”

Stiles ears turned cold and the breath he had tried to take turned into a cough as he noticed the dark, glaring creature standing a few meters behind everyone, holding two huge shopping-bags in his hands. Derek obviously had been used as bag-carrier and Stiles would have thrown him some comments if the alpha wouldn't look that terrifying right now. And, well, if he wouldn't stand there pretty much naked. In what now seemed like pretty much the public.

His face heated up under Derek's glare and he could feel his heartbeat speed up faster than he thought should be humanly possible. “That's enough, everyone.”, he muttered and tried to push the door closed again but Ethan easily stopped him by putting his hand on the wooden door. “Come on, you surely aren't that shy usually, are ya?” He obviously was an evil creature enjoying seeing Stiles being embarrassed out of his skin and the way he glanced at Cora made Stiles stomach sink.

He obviously misunderstood. But yeah, who else would qualify as 'the aggressive type' in his surroundings being able to leave those insane hickeys on him – besides Derek of course, but luckily no one seemed to even consider that he could possibly be the person behind Stiles' bruised neck... .

“Awesome hickeys you got there”, Cora suddenly grinned at him and Stiles eyes went wide. Unconsciously he glanced at Derek, whose eyes flashed up an angry red as his knuckles turned white under his grip on the shopping-bags tightening. Ethan's grin turned wider and he bumped Cora in the side, while Danny in Stiles' opinion stayed a bit too calm about the whole interaction between his boyfriend and everyone. “Evidence of an awesome night can't be kept secret for long, can it?”

And just as Stiles thought he couldn't take it anymore Derek was suddenly standing in front of him shoving him hard. Stiles crashed into the wall behind him, his face distorting with pain as the clothes rail dug into his shoulder. Before the door shut close with a loud bang, Stiles caught a glimpse of Ethan lying on his back on the floor, obviously not sure what just happened while Danny leaned over him. Lydia had found shelter behind Aiden as Derek grabbed Cora by the arm and pulled her away.

Stiles felt the tears sting in his eyes, blaming it on the spreading pain in his back. Why did his only encounters with conscious Derek end like this these days? Why did he always have to freak out and push him into something, hurting him physically as well as psychically... .

He brushed away the tears with his arm and pushed himself up, starting to change into his clothes again. In front of his fitting room he heard the other mumble and whisper, obviously unsure about how to react to what just happened. And when Stiles pushed open the door, all eyes were on him. “Sorry about that...”, he mumbled, though he wasn't quite sure what he was apologizing for. Lydia sighed slightly and took the underwear from his hands, walking up to the counter.

When Stiles looked after her in confusion, Danny patted his shoulder. “These are on us. Don't worry about it.” Aiden nodded slightly and walked after Lydia, pulling his purse from the back pocket of his jeans while Ethan just put a comfortable arm around Danny and smiled sympathetically at Stiles. “You know: Fuck Derek if he wants to go all speciesist on you. I have to admit I don't see why you would go after a girl like _that_ , but if you like here – we'll definitely support you.”

“That's not what....”, Stiles tried to set things straight, but was waved off by Ethan and Danny and every other attempt to convince the group that he and Cora were _not_ a thing was in vain.

Yes, his life obviously had turned another level of complicated again. (As if that was even possible.)

 


	11. Coming closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm late with the update again and to be frank, this is only half of what I had planned for this chapter... (v__v;)  
> but my mum had her surgery and even though I sat down a couple of times to write the rest of the chapter, I simply couldn't concentrate. I wanted to wait with the update until the chapter is finished as planned, but as I will be in Beijing the whole next week for work, I changed my mind and upload what I have right now in order to not have you wait too long.
> 
> Even though it's a bit short: I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The next day Stiles woke up late, finding three missed messages from Scott on his phone asking him to join him and Allison for a short trip to the sports center. Sighing he let his head fall back on the pillow and closed his eyes again. He really wasn’t in the mood to do any kind of sportive activity right now and even the slight movement to turn around to pick up his phone from the night stand had made his back hurt. It was almost as if he could tell the exact area where his back had turned blue and green just by lying there and listening to the pain spreading through his muscles.

After a few minutes of just lying there, Stiles finally found the motivation to push himself up, groaning a little as he made his way to the bathroom. The tiles felt cold under his feet as he twisted in front of the mirror to take a better look at the dark mark Derek’s push had left on his skin. The point where his shoulder had directly hit the clothes rail had turned a blackish purple surrounded by a mixture of blue and green that spread over his shoulder blade and Stiles hissed in pain when he couldn’t help himself but punch the darkest spot of all to see just how much it might hurt.

It hurt _a lot_.

Stiles rolled his shoulder a bit and slid out of his boxers, stepping into the shower. The jet of water first hurt on his shoulder, but he soon got used to the slight sting of pain and continued to wash up as usual, only skipping jerking off for now. A towel slung around his hips, he walked back into his room, pulled a small paper bag from the drawer of his nightstand and emptied its contents – blisters of pills, ointments, small packages of plasters and masks and a small first aid kit. He reached for a small can, sharply sucking in air as the movement made his bruised shoulder ache again. “Damn you, Derek...”, he mumbled as he pulled the lit off the can and retrieved one of the big plasters inside.

He rubbed the white object between his hands while walking back into the bathroom, where he turned his back to the mirror, pulled off the film of the plaster and carefully placed it on the darkest spot on his bruise. It would take a few weeks until the bruise would fade and he could move totally ache-free again, but well, for the time being the bruise plaster would at least make the pain bearable.

He took his time to shave and dry his hair before leaving the bathroom and cleaning up his medicine bag he glanced at the small shopping bag still sitting in the corner next to his closet unopened. The black jacket had already found a place of honor in his closet and the new jeans and sweater were already put out for the first trial run today, but he had been hesitant to take a closer look at the bag with his new underwear as, well... it felt strange and a bit forbidden to have received hand-chosen trunks by his long-lasting former crush, a hot, gay but obviously uninterested classmate and two alpha were-twins.

Hesitatingly he bent down, opened the bag and had a better look inside: There was the red trunks with the white seams that he had worn when Derek had disturbed their shopping tour as well as the Armani and Hugo Boss trunks. To his surprise he also found a salmon colored low-rise brief and the trunk that most probably was the same model Derek owned.

After a few minutes of just thoughtfully rubbing the soft material between his fingers, Stiles let out a deep breath and pulled the dark pants out of the bag and onto his lean body in one smooth movement. (He wished he would have videotaped that because no one would believe he was actually able to do something without looking awkward or tripping over. And even though he didn't like to admit it: That was unfortunately more than true most of the time.)

Stiles couldn't resist himself and walked up to the mirror, taking in the way the Derek-trunks looked on him. He remembered the alpha glaring him down while he had bent down to pick up his underwear that Stiles had hastily pulled from his arms and thrown on the floor. (And yes, he remembered that quite vividly. Derek had worn nothing but a towel after all and – abs!) He remembered Derek sleeping on his bed with nothing but the exact same underwear he felt on his hips right now. And – yeah, blame it on his youth! - he felt the fabric tighten and watched the front of the trunks bulking out more than they should. Maybe he had to rethink his prior decision to skip the jerking off...

  
  


After having bought a sandwich for breakfast in the convenience store on campus, Stiles made his way to the library. The weather was cold and it looked like it was about to rain – or snow – so Stiles didn’t really feel like going out anywhere, but instead opted to do some more research about the period of time Eliza’s diary described, hoping to find some direct links between events in newspapers and Eliza’s descriptions. He nodded a greeting to the young pimply boy behind the counter – most probably a (human) fellow freshmen earning a few bucks extra – and made his way to the end of the study hall and into the section with the newspaper microfilms. After putting down his bag on one of the empty tables he walked around the shelves and to the far end of the library. He knew his way around the microfilm archive by now and soon found the year he was searching for.

Chewing on his sandwich, Stiles stared at the flickering screen of the microfilm reader and scanned through the black and white pages. He preferred to have actual paper in his hand, feeling the grip of the fibers, smelling the dust and the ink, but he had to do with this. It was research, not pure entertainment after all.

He suddenly felt a presence behind him and glanced over his shoulder only to almost jump from his chair when his eyes caught the furrowed, lowered eyebrows and the shade of way too familiar stubble. “What the hell?!”, he breathed and unconsciously held onto the table as if to prepare against being thrown or pushed by the alpha again. But instead of launching himself at the tense youngster in front of him Derek just looked at him silently, his eyes dark and filled with an emotion Stiles couldn't quite decipher. “Could you stop creeping up on me?”, Stiles offered as a rather poor conversation opener. But Derek didn't answer his question, instead his right eyebrow twitched and when he reached forward, Stiles couldn't help but flinch, unsure of what mood Derek was in and what he might be doing to him.

He slapped Derek's hand away in a reflex, the sudden movement sending pain through his body, but Stiles tried to bite it down. The alpha visibly tensed, his eyes leaving Stiles for a second before he twisted his hand slightly, pointing at Stiles' face. “Mayonnaise...”, he mumbled and Stiles felt stupid as how his heart skipped a beat at actually hearing Derek's husky voice again after what seemed like an eternity of silence and ignorance between them.

Heat spreading over his cheeks, Stiles wiped the white away from his lips. “Thanks...”, he muttered unsure about how else to react. Derek was there. After weeks of ignoring Stiles Derek had finally made the first move to get in contact with him again. And there had been no shoving, no pushing, no other physical damage. If Stiles' muscles weren't so tensed up with weird nervousness he would have done the Stilinski happy-dance. But instead he just shifted from one feet to the other while waiting for some kind of reaction from the werewolf in front of him.

When Derek finally moved forward, grabbing hold of his shoulder, Stiles let out a surprised hiss. There was a strange sensation like warmth and electricity followed by an intoxicating feeling of lightness and Stiles noticed Derek's jaw clenching. Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed something dark wandering up the alpha's hand and arm and for a second he freaked out a bit, but just as he wanted to pull back Derek let go of his shoulder.

“What the hell did you just do?”, Stiles blabbed out, tracing the place Derek's fingers had dug into his sweater with his fingers. His back felt better, a lot actually, and while he was really happy about not having to flinch in pain every time he moved around a bit too fast, it kind of creeped him out. Derek, most probably having noticed the confused look on the younger one's face, let out a short breath. “I took some of your pain”, he explained calmly. “I mean... that's the least I can do after... well...” He was cute when he mumbled. “... after hurting you like that.”

Stiles took a few seconds to process that information, staring at Derek in disbelief. “You _took my pain_? What the-?! Werewolves are really able to do that?” Stiles looked at him in expectation of some more detailed explanation, but Derek just shrugged a bit awkwardly. “Well... yeah. Kind of. Alphas can at least.” “Means since Scott turned an alpha, he could've done that every time I tripped, fell, stumbled, crashed or whatever?!”, Stiles asked his mouth hanging open dramatically. “That son of a bitch!”

At this Derek chuckled – yes! He really chuckled! - and Stiles couldn't help but reply with a slightly dopey smile. “He could, I guess, if he actually knows he can do it.” Stiles nodded in agreement. “Yeah, Scott's a bit dense sometimes... I mean: I remember his face the first time he healed himself: He was so freaked out, I thought he would cry.” Derek's throat rumbled in a low laugh as he ran a hand over his neck, probably imagining Scott's distorted puppy-face. And Stiles, the pain of his back having faded almost completely and leaving his mind some space to think about how adorable the tall guy in front of him was, felt his heart beat a bit faster at the sight.

“How did you know I was hurt?”, he heard himself ask and Derek averted his eyes slightly. As the werewolf stayed silent for a few seconds, unwilling to meet Stiles eyes, Stiles shrugged with a slightly embarrassed smile on his face. “What? Is that such a weird thing to ask?” Derek finally looked at him again, his eyebrows hanging a bit lower over his eyes as usual. “No... it's not that...”, he hesitated a bit before continuing talking. “I smelled the bruise plaster on you....”

Stiles silenced for a second before he let out a coughed laugh, followed by a huge grin spreading all over his face. “You _smelled_ me? _Again_?” He thought he could see a faint blush rising from below the stubble to Derek's sharp cheekbones. “You really like doing that, don't you?”, he teased.

Derek clenched his jaw and the muscles in his shoulders tensed a bit before he turned around to walk away - which only made Stiles laugh louder. “Oh come on, big bad sourwolf. ...It's not that I mind it!” He reached for the hem of Derek's shirt showing from under his leather jacket and the alpha halted at the slight pull. Derek didn't turn around, just silently stood there with his back facing Stiles.

“Thanks.”, Stiles said after a few seconds of silence without really knowing why. His voice was low and silent as if somewhere deep down he was afraid someone else besides the wolf whom the words were intended for might hear his words. For some people it might have looked like Derek tried to block Stiles words out, but Stiles knew better.

He watched the muscles in Derek's back relax slowly, the tall guy's body shifting just a tiny bit, but still enough for him to notice. And when Derek reached behind himself to entangle Stiles' fingers from his shirt, his fingers warm against Stiles skin, their eyes met for a split second and Stiles felt the corners of his mouth curl up a bit at the fondness displayed in those grey-green eyes.

“Those clothes look good on you by the way...”, Derek muttered just loud enough for Stiles to catch the words as he watched the alpha walking away and if Stiles heart had sped up before it was racing by now. Who would've thought a compliment by the mighty Hale would feel that awesome? It felt so good Stiles took a few minutes to calm down enough to actually sit still and concentrate on the words on the screen in front of him again.

Stiles ended up finding two articles about the bombings Eliza's diary had described as well as some very sparse information about a special unit – and Stiles was sure the small pieces of information could be crossed with the places Eliza and the other three half-bloods that were kept with her were taken.

All in all Eliza's diary entries turned shorter and shorter after the one where she described how she was taken away from her family and fiancee to 'help the nation'. She hadn't quite known why she as a young woman was drafted for war – until she met the other half-bloods. Her days in 'training' weren't described very detailed, but it got clear that it were hard times for Eliza and her new found friends. The time away from her family and friends weighed her down and the fact that she was not allowed to see her fiancee of even contact him in any way made things even worse for her than the everyday isolation the half-bloods were experiencing itself.

The entries of the time of the war had stopped after Eliza had wrote that she had seen her fiancee. The words were too short and cold to describe a warm reunion between lovers and Stiles felt his toes turning cold when reading the last paragraph. There was no real description of the meeting, but Stiles couldn't help but feel that the meeting was forced on her by the men holding her – cause, yes, the short entries for weeks and months made it feel less like she was in some kind of military training but more like she had been kidnapped and trained to be a weapon. And that pretty much matched his thesis of half-bloods not 'going berserk' on their own but being instrumentalized by the army in order to win the war.

The entries stopped by the time Stiles thought matched the time of the special unit being involved in war – he just had to be right: Eliza had been taken to war as some kind of special weapon and she and the others moved under the disguise of some special unit who according to the papers later on was rewarded for their great achievements. And all that while all known half-bloods were brand-marked as uncontrollable liabilities to human society that needed to be eliminated.

Stiles wondered what had happened to Eliza herself, whether she, too, was killed in order to 'restore safety in our glorious country'. There were no entries after the war in her diary, the last few pages of the small book a scary emptiness on yellowed, crumbling paper.

He needed to know more. More about Eliza, more about the half-bloods, more about himself. And the only person he could think of that maybe held some more information was Deaton. Unfortunately he wasn't on campus on the weekends, so Stiles had no choice but to to ignore the ticklish feeling in his fingers and contain his curiosity until Monday.

He definitely couldn't wait until the next Culture Club on Tuesday.


	12. Waking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I returned safely from my business trip in Peking (and: Yes, the smog actually IS as bad as the media says. No exaggeration!) and first turned sick *lol* Then I had a friend over and just now am still recovering from what most likely is/was the Norovirus. Yay my life.  
> But to make up for the long wait this chapter is a bit longer than the last ones... unfortunately not beta-d at all, so I hope there are not too many mistakes in there (if you find any: Let me know!)
> 
> So...lot's of things happening this chapter! Hope you enjoy :)

Monday morning Stiles skipped his second lecture in order to pay Deaton a visit. He was surprised to find Scott standing next to the door to Deaton’s small office. “Don’t you have classes?”, he asked with his eyebrows raised but Scott just answered with a snort. “Dude, you’re my best friend and there’s a good chance you are about to find out about... well... what exactly you are. No way in hell I miss that.” And Stiles grinned. Scott was awesome.

Before he opened the door, Stiles took a deep breath and tried to calm his slightly shaking hands. He had run through several versions of what could happen after he stepped into Deaton’s office and asked him about his connection to half-bloods. The best one ended with him having found out how right he was and that half-bloods were the most awesome thing in the world. In regards to the worst version, he was unable to decide between being outed as a half-blood, tortured by the authorities and finally killed in front of his family and friends and Deaton simply telling him that he doesn’t know a thing about half-bloods and simply found the dusty diary somewhere on the street. 

“It’ll be fine.”, Scott’s voice disrupted his thoughts and Stiles managed to pull up the corners of his lips in a not too convincing smile. With a self-encouraging nod, Stiles finally pulled down the handle and stepped into the room. Deaton was sitting behind a gray desk that was almost invisible under tons of papers and books. He looked up from the screen of his laptop that sat sloped on top of a chaotic bundle of papers. “Stiles.”, he noted in his usual calm voice. His eyes slowly moved to Scott and he nodded a welcome. 

“How can I help you two?” Stiles didn’t know how to begin, his thoughts changing too fast as to put them in order and force them out of his mouth. And while he still was searching for a not too suspicious opener, Scott just took over: “We wanted to know some more about half-bloods.”, he blurted out and Stiles was about to hit him in the ribs before he noticed that, yes, that was pretty much what they were here for – and given his paper and all not too suspicious a question to ask. He was good. 

Deaton's face stayed calm and unimpressed – which drove Stiles a bit crazy. He liked Deaton, but at the same time his unwavering calmness and unchanging expression drove him nuts, as he simply couldn't stand not being able to read people. Derek, too,was hard to read at first, but at least one could easily notice when Derek was pissed – alpha-eyes, blared fangs and most likely painful body contact. The usual. - but with Deaton? Stiles was sure the assistant teacher would even wear that calm half-smile when silently killing off someone who got on his bad side... .

“Half-bloods.”, Deaton repeated, taking off his glasses while looking a little bit too much at only Stiles. “I thought I presented you sufficient material already.” Stiles cleared his throat and walked up to the chair sitting in front of Deatons desk, sitting down while jumping his feet restlessly. “Well, yeah, you gave me material – awesome material! – it's just that.... well... I'd like to know more.” At that he could feel Scott walking up behind him, resting his hands on the back of the chair. “We'd like to know more.”

Deaton stayed silent for a second before leaning back with a nod, folding his hands in his lap. “So what exactly is it that you want to know?” Stiles and Scott exchanged a short look and as the werewolf had nothing more to offer than a slight shrug, Stiles gulped and turned back to face Deaton. “Well... as a starter: Where you got the diary for example...” 

“Let's say it's part of my family's history.”, Deaton said and Stiles felt like jumping his face, because this was close to no answer at all. He felt Scott's nail digging into the chair next to his shoulders before his friend spoke out loud Stiles' exact thoughts: “Family history as in 'Half-bloods are part of my family' or as in 'half-bloods were happily tortured and killed by my family'? You know that's quite a difference...” But Deaton's facial expression stayed unchanged and Stiles felt his teeth clench in an attempt to calm himself down – all in all he liked Deaton, he did, but that calmness really drove him crazy and made his wolf-side rage inside of him. And as long as they didn't know which side Deaton was on he couldn't lose it. He had managed to stay in control in far more difficult situations – though Deaton might be a thousand times more sensitive to the small changes in him than anyone else.

“If my family's history was that dark, I would hardly hand out evidence, don't you think?”, the teacher said in a low voice as he leaned forward, his eyes fixating on Stiles again. “Especially not to you, Stiles.” His heart stopped for a second as Stiles clearly got the message Deaton sent him. Scott, too, took less than a second to step in front of his friend, claws released and eyes a threatening red. “Who are you?”, the werewolf barked, but Deaton seemed unaffected. He leaned back again and calmly took in the expressions of the two boys in front of him.

“I see you trusted your friend with your secret.”, he continued and Stiles felt his toes go cold. He knew. He knew everything. “I don't know what secret you might mean.”, Scott growled in denial, stepping in between Stiles and the teacher, making any eye contact impossible. Stiles let go of the breath he hadn't even noticed he had held. The thoughts in his head started spinning and the worst case scenarios he had gone through before flashed up before his eyes. He was done for. If Deaton really know about his true self and let word out, he would be a dead man.

Stiles watched Scott's back, saw the muscles tensing and the way his hands stretched left only one conclusion for him: Scott, too, knew how screwed he was with his secret in the open. And even though he was grateful to know that his friend would do anything to protect him – the way Scott's breath spread up and his claws were twitching made him nervous. Scott was about to pounce Deaton and do whatever needed to be done to shut him up. But it was Scott and Stiles knew he would never get over whatever he was about to do. So just when Scott's arm was about to reach out for Deaton behind his desk, Stiles grabbed his wrist.

Scott's head turned around and Stiles just looked at him, shaking his head slightly before he leaned sideways to look at Deaton again. “What do you know about me?”, he asked hoarsely. Scott stepped back, but stayed close by his side, Stiles hand still holding onto him though Stiles felt it was less of holding his werewolf-friend back than steadying himself. 

“As I said: Your kind is part of my family's history.”, Deaton started and the not very subtle hint that Stiles was not human was enough to tense the two boys up again. Deaton watched them carefully, before continuing talking. “We have looked after half-bloods for centuries, Eliza being one of them.” A calm smile tugged on his lips. “So that should answer your question about how I came across the diary.” 

Stiles wanted to ask so much, what 'helping out' meant, what half-bloods generally were like, how Eliza's story ended, but the first thing his mouth blurted out was a simple and self-centered “How did you find out about me?” He could feel Scott's hand on his own as if to stop him from talking, but maybe it was also to calm him down: He hadn't noticed before, but his body was shaking and the way his breath came only out in stuttered huffs, he was close to a panic attack. “There is no need to be afraid of me.”, Deaton said as he pushed himself off his chair and walked around his table to stand in front of the boys. “If I had wanted to cause you any harm I would have done so long before.”

After a few seconds of heavy silence Deaton turned away to get a paper cup of water from the water dispenser next to the window before offering it to Stiles. Hesitatingly he accepted the drink and looked at it for a short while before taking a sip. “I have to say”, the teacher began speaking again as he returned to his position in front of the boys, his hips resting against his desk. “It was quite a bold move to come to Garnier Academy considering the chances of your wolf-side waking in the presence of one of the werewolves...” 

“Waking?”, Scott asked glancing at his strangely quiet friend. “Yes, waking. As far as my family's knowledge goes, half-bloods can certainly constrain their wolf-side. But meeting with full-blooded werewolves, especially alpha ones, can break their control and unknowingly let their hidden side show.” Stiles could feel Deaton's stare on him and a heated red slowly spread over his cheeks as he already knew what Deaton was playing at. “As far as I can tell... you had your wakening already - which made it even more risky for you to come here.”

“You sound just like my dad...”, Stiles mumbled and bit down on the paper cup in his hands. Deaton avoided any comment on that and instead continued. “You have done an incredible job at hiding your true form until now, but living that close with werewolves who can smell, hear and see close to everything if they just want to... pure self-control will not keep you hidden for very long.” Stiles looked up, releasing the paper cup from his lips as his eyes tried to read Deaton's expression. “So what does that mean? You ask me to leave here?”

He sounded angrier than he felt. Stiles had thought about the risks of him coming here and it had been weeks of arguing with his dad before the Sheriff actually had signed his paper work. But he had wanted to come here. Parting from his friends and giving up the chance of a once in a lifetime scholarship had never been an option for him. He had fought hard to come here and he certainly didn't feel like tucking his tail between his legs and just run away. He didn't care what exactly Deaton was and what he knew – he wouldn't leave Garnier Academy just like that. No way in hell.

“I assume that is not an option you would be willing to take.”, Deaton smiled. (Gosh, Stiles hated that smile. Like... really.) “But you will need support if you don't want to be found out about.” Now that got Stiles attention. “Confiding in a friend was a good first step – especially when said friend is a true alpha. A backup like that will give you the needed protection if things crumble down.”

“Things won't be crumbling down.”, Scott assured, his eyes wandering between Deaton and his best friend. “We won't let them.” And hell, Stiles just wanted to hug him. But as in front of Deaton that would have been like super weird and not do him and Scott's manliness any good, he kept seated in his chair and instead just beamed a smile at the werewolf next to him. To his surprise Deaton showed something like an actual, true smile as he nodded at the two of them. “That is good to hear. But in order to prevent the worst case to happen, I would like to give you something helpful.”

And with this the teacher turned around and walked to a cupboard in the back of the room, searching for something inside. After a few seconds he came back with a small box in his hands. “I think this can help you to prevent others from finding out about you.” Stiles accepted the wooden box hesitantly and glanced at Scott before opening the lid. Inside were a silver necklace, a small bottle with colorless liquid and a few small bags. “What's all that?”, Stiles asked and Deaton started to explain. “The necklace holds moonstone – I think you're familiar with it's effect already. It should help you to control your wolf as long as you wear it, the closer to a pulse point the better. As for the bottle: You should only take it in an emergency. It will paralyze your wolf for a few hours, making it unable to surface and hence to be actually detectable. At the same time, though, it will make yourself weak and sleepy and to be frank side-effects are not yet fully known, so I advise you to not take it if not absolutely necessary. And never take more than 10 drops.”

Stiles nodded, his fingers running over the surface of the small bottle. “Is it only effective on me or could it also be used on normal werewolves?” Deaton raised an eyebrow and gave a small nod. “It could also paralyze a full-blooded werewolf, though it's effect might be weakened. Especially in case of an alpha. So no matter who you plan to use it for: It should be your last resort.”

Deaton continued to explain the use of the different powders in the box which could help him to keep werewolves at a certain distance (the mountain ash might burn his hands a little when being used, but besides that Deaton assured him he would be able to use it just the same as humans), to hide his smell (he felt like Deaton's eyes turned a bit mockingly as if he knew the trouble with smells he had lately) and calm down his heartbeat. If Deaton's tools really worked the way he explained, Stiles really would have it a little bit easier to keep himself hidden. Though he knew that he still had to be careful, he felt like with Scott and Deaton backing him up he might actually be able to do this. And with his secret known, he could finally ask Deaton more direct about the other half-bloods, about how they lived and died and – what had bothered him since he had read Eliza's diary – how they seemed to have different qualities than him.

“Though humans and werewolves seem to have the same abilities to a certain extend, half-bloods' abilities differ depending on their general mixture of DNA. Most of the children between humans and werewolves turn out either the one or the other, only in very rare cases the species actually mix. And depending on which one is more prominent the abilities can differ quite a lot. My family documented half-bloods who could see or hear just the same as werewolves, others who had healing-ability, then again others that had the agility and speed... it is even said that there used to be half-bloods who could foresee big events, tell peoples auras or bring life to forsaken ground.” 

Deaton looked at Stiles with a determination in his eyes that Stiles thought he never had seen before. “Some people might think half-bloods are an unfinished, unclear species. But there are powers within you that most probably no one else possesses, so you should learn to not only constrain, but also to listen to your inner wolf in order to make best use of those powers.” And without being fully sure about whether he understood what he had been told right now, Stiles nodded. Coming to Garnier Academy had been the right thing to do after all...

  
  


Two weeks later Stiles threw his bag into the back of his jeep and waited for Scott to jump into the passenger seat. “You sure you'll survive the next days without Allison?”, Stiles grinned. Scott just punched his shoulder and returned the grin. “Hardly. ...But get us the hell out of here! Bet your dad is already pacing up and down in the entrance waiting for you.” Scott scoffed, but knew that his friend most probably wasn't so far off: His dad had called him 5 times in the last 2 days to make sure he would get back home in time for their Christmas party. Not that it was anything special, but the fact that his son had only called him a few times since he had gone off to college – and even less after the forced room-change – seemed to have him made a bit Stiles deprived.

The engine of Stiles blue baby roared up and they made their way for the main gate. After having passed the first few buildings, Stiles slowed down and opened his window to greet Cora and Isaac walking up the way to the dorms. “On your way home?”, Isaac asked, pulling down his scarf a bit to reveal a beaming smile. Stiles nodded and leaned back a bit to give Scott room to lean over him to greet the two with a casual wave of hands. “Yeah. You guys not going home for Christmas?”, he asked and Stiles felt like face palming. Scott really knew how to drop a brick with the best intentions.

“No... not really.”, Isaac answered as his smile turned a bit stiff. Cora, obviously noticing how uncomfortable the werewolf felt when asked about his complicated - which was utterly sugarcoating it - family situation and jumped in. “If he would leave, too, I fear it would leave no one but me and my bro here and even though I love Derek, really, spending Christmas with just the two of us? Ew. No way.” Stiles grinned and mentally clapped her applause for smoothing out the atmosphere in such a skilled way. “So you'll keep Isaac as a hostage to force Derek to be a good boy over the holidays, huh? Can't have him misbehave in front of his gang”, he winked at her and Cora as well as Isaac grinned at him. Cora's “You bet!” overlapped with Isaac's “You know he's not a bad guy” and all of them let out a small laugh.

“Does Derek not have anyone else but you guys that he would want to spent Christmas with?”, Stiles' voice sounded more nervous than he liked. Hell, he didn't even know why he had asked that question at all. He felt utterly obvious and if Scott's grinding of teeth was anything to go with, he absolutely was. At least Isaac was simple enough to not question Stiles' interest in his broody alpha - or he simply had the courtesy to hide it. “If you mean whether he has a special someone by his side right now – thanks god, no.”, Cora broke the awkward silence Stiles felt around himself.

“Thanks god?”, Scott asked, one of his eyebrows lifted questioningly. “Well.. his last girlfriend was a psycho that got our family killed so: Yeah, thanks god - His choice in women is horrible.” Stiles pursed his lips. He knew he shouldn't push the topic, he really did. But his mouth once again was running faster than his thoughts could control. “So you mean... he never dated anyone after that crazy bitch?” To Stiles relief Isaac and Scott both seemed to be just as interested in the topic as him, all eyes focusing on Cora, waiting for an answer.

Cora just shrugged, tugging on her gloves. “Well... after the thing with our family happened he seemed to be obsessed with finding some werewolf... but I'm sure that was just something his weird mind came up with to get over his killer-ex. I mean: We were pretty much the only werewolves in the area back than and he couldn't even say where it had been they had met, so if you ask me: That wolf never existed. And well, besides that he never showed any love interest in anyone again – at least as far as I know.” “But I'm pretty sure he went home with a girl the last time we went to a club together...”, Isaac mumbled and Stiles could feel his heart sink. It wasn't like he had expected a guy like Derek to be able to pick up several girls a night, it was just that some part of him had hoped that maybe the he could be the only one knowing the sourwolf's aroused face.

“Sure he has some... fun from time to time.”, Cora interrupted his thoughts. “I mean he's a grown man. But until now there was never one he stuck around for more than one night.” “Well, that leaves you guys the pleasure to spend the holidays with him, right?”, Scott closed the topic, a reassuring hand on Stiles underarm. Cora rolled her eyes in return. “Yeah, _thanks for that._ ” Isaac laughed and gave her a friendly bump in the shoulder. “She likes to act tough, but she has a real brother complex.”, he faked-whispered only to receive a bump in return that sent him flying into a pile of snow.

Scott and Stiles watched the two of them with a knowing grin on their faces before Stiles checked his watch.“So, we gotta get going. We'll be off until the 31st. If you guys, too, celebrate new years here maybe we could hang out together or something?” Cora made a face and waved him off. “I hope I'll have better plans for New Years than hang out with you losers, but I guess we'll see.” Scott ignored the affectionate insult and instead gave his brightest smile followed by a cheerful “Sounds like a plan!”

And giving another wave of hands and some Christmas greetings shouted over the rumbling engine they were off for their holidays at home. One week at home with Christmas decorations, a most probably way too pompously decorated tree and presents that would most likely be awkward or the definition of embarrassing... . Hell, Stiles couldn't wait to finally be home again.

  
“So you haven't told your dad about Deaton...”, Scott raised both eyebrows as he threw the door of Stiles' jeep shut. Shouldering his own bag, Stiles walked around to the car, waiting for his friend to catch up. “He even freaked out when I told him about having let you, my best friends since forever, in on my secret. You really think he could've handled a complete stranger knowing about me without immediately taking me off school and locking me at home?” Scott thought for a moment before giving in with a shrug. “Just feel bad for the old man...”

“You better feel bad for me, dude...”, Stiles mumbled as they made their way towards the dormitories. “Don't know what you guys are talking about but: True, it can't get anything worse than being you.”, a familiar voice chirped from behind of them and even before turning around Stiles started rolling his eyes. “Thanks for the warm welcome, Cora.” The brunette just grinned. “Welcome back, losers. Had a good Christmas?”

Just seconds later Isaac showed up behind them carrying three big grocery bags and Stiles was sure that if he hadn't been a freaking werewolf the bags would've brought him to his knees. Even when it came to stupid tasks like grocery shopping werewolves had an advantage – the world was an unfair place. “What's all that?”, Scott asked and had a peak into one of the bags. “Well”, Isaac beamed up. “We thought we start to prepare for the New Years Party tonight already!”

“New Years Party?”, Scott asked a little bit confused and before the happiness on Isaac's face could die completely Stiles jumped in, being the hero that he was. “Dude, we suggested it. You forgot already?” And turning to Isaac he added with a grin: “I hope you have enough booze and fireworks. And we need curly fries. Especially curly fries.” Cora exasperatingly rolled her eyes at Stiles mouthing a silent 'weirdo' but she still tugged along with them as they all made their way up to Building Roser.

Scott excused himself to his room(which was basically a codeword for him 'catching up' with Allison who also had arrived earlier today and was pretty much the main reason they didn't celebrate New Years at home), promising to come up to Stiles room later on to see what's up for the night, while the rest of them continued for the huge building in front of them. As they made their way up the stairs, a dark voice interrupted their bickering. “So you guys are back...” Even without turning around Stiles knew exactly who this voice belonged to and his heart sped up a little.

Derek walked up the stairs behind them in a black jogging suit, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. “Finally back from your run?”, Cora asked and extended a hand until it rested on Derek's lower arm. “You sure you okay?”, she asked and Stiles had to agree: Derek looked unusually tired and worn out. His skin was paler than it should be and his eyes blood-shot with dark circles underneath. “Don't worry...”, Derek muttered and pushed her hand away. Stiles bit down any comment he had on how unhealthy the alpha looked and instead watched him slightly nervous as Derek walked up the stairs next to them.

“So...”, Stiles tried to get the conversation running again. “... where will we have the party tonight?In one of our rooms or...” “We got the community room in Roser - 4th floor!”, Isaac reported proudly and in return was presented with a rewarding clap on the back by Stiles which the werewolf obviously hadn't expected, as he stumbled forward and sent two of the bags in his arms flying. Luckily Cora and Derek were quick enough to catch them before their contents could litter the floor. Stiles looked at them with an awkward, lopsided smile. “Oops.”

Stiles was punished to walk behind the three werewolves with a two meter distance between them. Sulking he made his way up the stairs and continued to his room after the others continued to their rooms on the lower floors. He would have time to take a shower and decide on something good to wear until they would meet up downstairs (and no he did not feel girly for wanting to look smashing tonight. He hadn't gone through the hassle of shopping with Lydia and the twins and coming up with some explanation for his dad concerning his new taste in underwear for nothing.). So after he left Scott a message with the details for the night he stripped of his clothes and made his way to the bathroom.

 

A few hours later Stiles found himself comfortably tipsy searching the grocery bags on the table for some more beer. There was still were-booze left, but Stiles had had his encounter with wolfsbane infused alcohol a few years ago already and he definitely wouldn't try that again. He let out a frustrated groan when the last bottle his hands found, too, was for the supernatural. “Stupid werewolves...”, he mumbled sitting back on the couch and stuffing his face with more curly fries.

“You really never get tired of those, do you?”, Derek muttered and let himself fall in the seat next to him, taking a sip of his drink. “Nope. Not in this life.”, Stiles grinned and stuffed his mouth a bit more before offering the remaining fries to Derek. The werewolf looked at them suspiciously, but took some of them after all. “So how was Christmas?”, Stiles asked after having cleared his mouth again. He would have been super nervous sitting next to Derek like this again, but maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the fact that he wore the necklace Deaton had given him: He felt a lot calmer than he had ever since he had been banned from their shared room.

“Okay, I guess....” was all Derek gave as an answer and Stiles let out a small huff. “Sounds like right out of a picture book.” He watched Derek slipping a bit deeper into the pillow as his lips stretched into a hint of a smile. “You look tired...” Stiles hadn't really intended to comment on Derek's exhausted face, but the words somehow just slipped. And contrary to his expectation, Derek did neither snarl at him nor simply get up and leave. Instead he ran a hand over his face and let out a small sigh. “Yeah... had some trouble sleeping lately...”, he admitted and Stiles had more than just a hard time to not just sling his arms around the guy. “Nightmares again?”

Derek didn't answer, but just gave him a side-ways glance before nipping on his were-beer again. “You know...”, Stiles started slightly nervously, his fingers busy with peeling the label off his empty bottle. “If there's anything I... ... we could help with, just say the word. You know you don't have to pretend to be all big-bad-wolf, right?” Now this earned him a snarl. “Oh come on, you know what I mean.” Derek decided to say nothing but just closed his eyes for a short while taking in deep breaths. Stiles found himself watching him intently, taking in his furry eyebrows, the slight twitching of his nose, the small line of his lips. He had been gone for only two weeks and it wasn't like they had seen much of each other the days before he left for holidays, but hell... he had missed seeing the alpha up close.

“Where are the others?”, Derek interrupted Stiles' thoughts as his eyes scanned the room. Stiles shrugged. “I'm pretty sure I don't want to know what Scott and Allison are doing and Cora and Isaac... I dunno... hopefully buying some more booze?” The alpha rolled his eyes and took the bottle from Stiles hands. “I think you had enough already. It's not even twelve yet...” And as if something had just hit them both of them checked their watches and Stiles let out a stretched “Ooookay. So that's where everyone went...” Grinning he pushed himself off the couch and waited for Derek to follow him downstairs where the others were already waiting with the fireworks and a bottle of champagne Allison had brought.

 

Stiles woke up without even knowing why. Blinking, he reached above his head and turned his alarm clock to read a red “5:02”. He yawned and pushed his face back into his pillow, but decided to get up to get something to drink after a few seconds. On his way to the bathroom, however, he got distracted by a rattling noise coming from the door. It took a few seconds before Stiles heart sped up in a mixture of anticipation and panic. Maybe it was just some drunk neighbor unable to open his door. Or maybe it was just the wind.

Okay, who was he trying to kid: He knew exactly what that sound was. Or more likely _who_. But he had to be strong. He had been gone for over a week and had made up his mind to change things. He liked Derek. Like really _liked_ him. He admitted it. And exactly because he liked him, this whole thing had to stop. Derek was sleep-walking and Stiles man enough to not take advantage of that.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles walked up to the door, pressing a hand against the wood. “Go back to your room.”, he said in a low voice, trusting Derek would have his werewolf-hearing also during sleepwalks. A low rumble came from the other side of the door as a response and Stiles didn't need to open the door to know exactly whose throat this husky rumble belonged to. “Derek, please. Just go back to your room.”

But the noises didn't stop – in fact Stiles had a feeling Derek was by now only seconds away from simply ripping the door out of its angles. “Derek, _please_! Please just _go_... you don't know what you're doing...” He ran a hand over his face, his eyes suddenly feeling warm and stingy. “...and I...I can't do this anymore... so _please_...” Leaning his head against the cold wood, Stiles could almost hear Derek's rugged breath on the other side. And when Derek's husky voice traveled through the door, Stiles almost choked. His eyes went wide with disbelief and his mouth gasped open as his hand hastily pushed on the handle, pulling the door open within a split second. “What did you say?”

“Stiles...”, the dark haired wolf in front of him repeated and Stiles felt his knees give in. This had to be a dream. This couldn't be reality. Derek was not standing in front of him room in nothing but boxers, face flushed, eyes flashed red with widened pupils and actually saying his name. _His_ name. _Stiles'_ name. He had muttered while sleep-hooking-up before, yes, but never had he ever mentioned his name. Never had he given any sign that he... that he knew who the person in front of him was.

His head was spinning and he had to grip the door frame in order not to slip to the floor. Where did that leave him? Where did that leave _them_? “What...”, he stuttered but his thoughts were too fast paced to actually form a sentence and make it all the way to his mouth, so instead of asking Derek all those things he wanted to know – needed to know! - the only thing that left his lips was a choked “Why?”

Derek's breath was suddenly close, tickling his neck as the older one slung his arms around Stiles' hips and leaned in to nibble on his neck. A by now too familiar sweet scent hit Stiles and set his nerves on fire. He wanted to ask Derek whether he knew what he did right now, whether he had remembered their past nights, why he was here at all... but the moment Derek's hard-on rubbed against his own through the thin layers of their trunks, his thoughts just dissolved into heat that spread through his body like a wildfire.

He moaned slightly and noticed that his hand had found it's way to Derek's hair, pulling slightly on it while pressing his body closer to the alpha's. He let himself be pushed further into the room and absentmindedly gave the door a short nudge with his foot to shut it close before arching his back at the sensation of Derek's hand cupping his butt and pressing their erection against each other hard. Stiles mind went blank between their hot breaths mingling between their lips and tongues, their hands roaming wantingly over their bodies.

Without even knowing how they got there, Stiles found himself lying on the bed, Derek's weight pressing him comfortably into the mattress while the older one's fangs pinched into his earlobe, sending shivers down his spine. “Derek, please... we... we need to talk...”, Stiles heard himself say without knowing when he had found his right mind again. “We can't do this anymore, we...” A low moan cut into his phrase as he felt one of Derek's finger pressing against his entry.

He felt Derek take in a sharp breath in his neck, obviously liking the sounds Stiles made if the sticky feeling between their crotches was any sign. After taking another deep breath of Stiles' scent, the alpha pushed himself up, retreating his fingers from Stiles' butt while pulling down his trunks in the movement. Derek settled in a half sitting, half kneeling position above Stiles' lower abdomen, his red eyes staring down at the younger one through his dark lashes.

For a second Stiles forgot about his resolutions and just gave in to the lust rushing through his body. His eyes rolled back as he moved against Derek's body, giving the older one enough of an invite to reach behind him between Stiles' tender thighs again, pressing into him once more, deeper than before. As if in an attempt to steady himself, Stiles hands found Derek's erection, his fingers tightening around it while his head rolled back to release a deep moan.

This felt good, so damn good. He should stop Derek, he really should, but it was as if he forgot how to use words – or basically even how to think straight. So all he did was running his fingers along the heated skin spanning over Derek's length, squeezing it slightly as Derek started to move his hand between his legs. His body twitched and for a second Stiles thought he forgot how to breath now, too. When his throat finally opened up again, he let out a rugged breath and took one hand from Derek's throbbing cock, placing it on the older one's hips.

“Derek...wait...”, he muttered hoarsely. “Please... we can't... we really...” He felt his voice trembling and closed his eyes as to not change his mind at the impeccable sight of Derek. “We can't do this...”, he repeated again and he could feel Derek's body still above him. For a few seconds silence descended upon them and only their rushed breaths were filling the dark room. Then Derek's husky voice cut through. “Why?”

“Because...” Stiles wanted to explain Derek how he felt about their nightly get-together, how he lost himself in Derek's arms while at the same time feeling simply too guilty for doing so. How he didn't want to take advantage of him while he wasn't himself – hell, he most probably wasn't even now. He wanted to argue calmly or simply rant a bit to get that tightening feeling off his chest. But instead he felt his face cramp up as tears started to fill his eyes and all he was able to bring forth in a silent sob was a desperate “Because I think I love you.”

Derek didn't move and Stiles could feel his stare on him. He wasn't able to make out Derek's expression through the tears that by now streamed freely over his cheeks only to be followed by more. Stiles felt stupid and embarrassed and unbelievably open and vulnerable. The places where Derek's fingers still lingered against his thighs that were tickling with heat before suddenly had turned cold and when the alpha above him still didn't react, Stiles felt sobs creeping up his throat, making his body tremble. He brought his arm up to cover his crying face, turned his body as far as was possible to the side in an attempt to spare Derek the hideous sight. He wanted to get away. He _needed_ to. But when he tried to push Derek off of himself, the werewolf didn't make any attempt to move.

Even though Stiles gave his best to fight it, the sobs came harder and just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, he felt Derek's finger pulled out. This was it. Derek would just leave and never come back. Whatever it had been between them was officially done for. And a part of him wanted to punch him in the nuts for ever speaking the truth... . But just as Stiles thoughts were about to drift off into absolute and utter self-destruction, two warm hands came up to his face, cupping it carefully. He felt himself being pulled to face Derek again and before he could figure out the outline of his face - or think about where one of the hands on his face had been just seconds ago - , the older one pressed his lips against his and Stiles mind went blank.

It was a gentle kiss, careful and sweet with their lips barely brushing against each other. He could feel Derek's hot breath against his skin as he breathed in the musky but sweet scent, blinking in confusion to what just happened. Derek looked at him, eyes a red, clouded shadow behind dark lashes as he seemed to simply take in Stiles face. His thumb moved over Stiles cheeks and wiped away the tears that clung to his skin and he looked just as unsure about what to do as Stiles himself.

After almost endless seconds Derek kissed him again, his slightly opened lips pressing gently against Stiles' and without realizing it at first, Stiles closed his eyes, lifting his chin slightly as to allow the alpha better access. The warm tip of Derek's tongue dipped carefully between Stiles lips, silently asking for permission and Stiles felt his body relax beneath the older one's weight. Maybe, just maybe Derek didn't reject his feelings after all. Maybe this could be real... . At least he wanted to believe so when he tasted Derek's mouth, their play of tongues gentler than any time before... .

 

“You know your timing sucks, right?”, Scott snarled at him as he entered Stiles room. “I don't want to imagine what I'm keeping you from, but be sure: I know you're the best friend ever!”, Stiles offered an innocent smile and pulled down the blue T-shirt he had just put on. “I can't believe I'm really helping you with this again...”, the werewolf mumbled while looking down at Derek sleeping in Stiles bed. The room still smelled like sex, though at least Stiles had been able to really remove the smell from Derek's body thanks to Deaton's powder collection.

“You sure you want to continue like this?” Scott looked at Stiles with one of his accusing puppy-looks that hit Stiles right in the chest. “Of course not. Especially not since he...” Derek's voice rang in the back of his head spelling out his name. “Since he what?”, Scott asked. “Did...did he...?” Stiles hit him in the shoulder and let out a small huff. He turned around and walked up to the bed, his eyes lingering on the sleeping face of the alpha. “He said my name, you know...”

Scott almost choked on his spit. “You mean he...knows? But then why did you call me?” Sighing, Stiles bit down on his lower lip and turned to face his friend again. “I don't know why he said it. I.. I'm just not sure.” He felt stupid for getting his hopes up. Maybe he had just misheard. Maybe it had just been his mind playing a prank, his inner wolf tricking him into getting what he wanted. “What if I heard wrong? I mean... he didn't act any different today. I mean: Yes, we sat next to each other, talked and things were a bit like back when we shared a room, but... what if that was just it? I just... I don't want to risk loosing everything we have when he's awake for.... this...”

Scott shook his head and pulled his friend in for a hug. “Dude... you're really killing me, you know that?” With a deep sigh he let go of Stiles and tried to avoid thinking about what it was he smelled on the human. “I tell you: This needs to stop. I won't help you destroy yourself any longer...” Stiles nodded as he watched Scott picking up Derek's heavy body. “I know...”, he whispered and taking a step towards the two wolves in front of him he placed a hand on Derek's cheek, letting his fingers feel the slight burn of his stubble against his skin.

“This was the last time, I guess...” A sad smile spread over his face as he swallowed whatever part of him wanted to just keep Derek and his nightly visits close at any cost. He knew Derek deserved better. He couldn't just let Derek come over like this just because he looked weak. A part of him might say he did something good to the wolf, helped him gain some sleep and keep away the nightmares of his past, but Stiles knew better than that.

He knew that letting Derek in again and again had been nothing but him selfishly clinging to his very own dream, desperately trying to hold up the imagination of the broody sourwolf having seeked out him of all people to be his mate. But it was time to stop hiding in the darkness like a coward and have the courage to find out what that between conscious Derek and him actually was. “You're doing the right thing...”, Scott tried to back him up and Stiles nodded, a grateful smile pulling on his lips. “Yeah... I guess so...”

“What...”, Derek's voice suddenly interrupted the two of them and made Stiles' body turn cold. “Where am I?”


	13. Falling Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so after recovering from being sick I am back to work and had quite a lot going on the last few days. I hope I didn't make you guys wait too long again!
> 
> So if you like this chapter leave a comment or some kudos :D

“Where am I?”, Derek's voice rang in Stiles ears and made his toes go cold with fear. He wasn't ready for this yet. He had decided to drop the dices soon anyway, thought about how to bring the whole thing between them up. But this was neither the time nor the place. And he should have said something already, come up with some lie to cover everything up – he was good at this, he knew it. Just this time his brain seemed to be broken, his mouth gaping open unable to come up with the right words. Scott put Derek down on the empty bed and stepped back, obviously feeling the tension in the room. “Where the hell am I?”, Derek growled while running a hand over his face.

“Stiles' room.”, Scott answered with a nervous glance at his best friend who looked like he was about to throw up any second. Derek furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at the two in confusion. “Why?” Stiles felt Scott glancing at him again, but still didn't figure out how his mouth normally worked. His mind was blank and his chest felt like something had a tight grip on his intestines, twisting them. He swallowed the bile that had found its way up his throat and listened to Scott answering for him again. “Well, you...” His voice sounded nervous and he swallowed hard. “Do you know you sleepwalk?”

Derek looked at him with intense eyes staring through his lashes as his jaw clenched, pressing his lips in a small line. “I sleepwalked here?”, he asked after a moment of silence, voice husky and hoarse. Scott shrugged slightly, his mouth opening, but just as he was about to most probably spilling the beans to the scary but clueless alpha in front of him, Stiles found his ability to speak again. “Yeah, scared the shit out of me.” He laughed nervously as he scratched his neck with his right hand. “I'm not sure why you came here, but when I opened the door you simply stomped in and...”, he lifted his eyebrows, biting down on his lower lip while both his hands pointed in the direction of his bed. “...fell asleep right in my bed.”

Derek stared at him for the four longest seconds both Scott and Stiles had ever experienced and Stiles felt cold sweat running down his back. He had to stay cool. He could pull this off. He would keep his heart rate down, sent Derek back and when the time was right and he prepared enough he would talk to him about, well, everything. (It was the right thing to do. He knew that. Just... not now.) “So I walked all the way here to sleep in your bed.” It was more of a statement than a question and it pulled even stronger on Stiles' nerves. His throat rumbled with a snort as he shrugged, putting both of his hands up. “Weird, right?”

“Why is Scott here?”, Derek narrowed his eyes and Stiles thought he could see a spark of red in them. It made his blood run cold and his heart rate spike. “Well, erm..” His eyes glanced sideways, meeting Scott's. “He asked me to help you get back.”, Scott answered truthfully. “You wouldn't wake up and there's just no way I could get you out of here on my own.”, Stiles agreed and added a rushed “You know: Weak human. No supernatural strength and so on.”

Derek stared at them for a few seconds, his mind working wildly behind his green eyes. He pushed himself up from the bed, his jaw muscles twitching as his eyes locked on Stiles. Stiles felt himself sweat. He had been in interrogation for blowing up the toilets in high-school once and he had known that he would be screwed the second his dad would arrive, but compared to Derek's stare just now that had been nothing. He swallowed hard again, trying his best to keep the bile down. Throwing up on Derek's bare feet wouldn't really help the situation... .

“Alright.” Just one word that cut the silence, but it made Stiles feel like he could actually breath again. Derek had bought their story. (Well, actually it hadn't been much of a lie, but more like...adjusting the truth. At least that's what he tried to tell himself.) “You find your way back yourself?”, Stiles asked, voice a bit steadier than before, as he took a few steps towards the door. “Or should Scott bring you after all? ...not that you fall asleep somewhere on the stairs or the likes.” He put on a slightly forced grin, hoping for Derek to take it with a grumble and leave before anything else could happen. And it seemed to work: The grumpy alpha let out a huff and ran a hand through his hair, slowly making his way towards the door. Scott flashed his friend a slightly shaking grin and sat down on the bed, trying to get the tension out of his muscles.

When Derek had reached his side, Stiles reached for the door handle, but just as his fingers touched the cold metal, long fingers tightened in a hard grip around his wrist. Stiles' head shot around and he found Derek staring through him, eyes a threatening red as his nose twitched, nostril flared. He leaned closer to Stiles, taking in his smell without even trying to hide it. And suddenly the fact that Stiles still reeked of Derek and cum hit him like a fist to the guts. His skin went cold and his pulse sped up as he tried to find a way to talk himself out of this. But before he could even utter one sorry syllable, Derek was in his personal space, pushing him against the wall.

Stiles let out a slightly pained groan as the werewolf's lower arm pressed up against his chest, pinning him in place.Within seconds Scott was next to them, trying to get Derek off of him, but the alpha threw him across the room without as much as looking at him. With a shredding sound Stiles found the T-shirt he had put on after cleaning up Derek ripped open, bearing the fresh marks on his throat and chest. “Derek, I'm sure I can explain...”, Stiles' voice came out of his throat, weak and shaking. But Derek didn't listen. His free hand had found its way to his lower abdomen, fingers spreading over the place both their cum had landed on a short while ago. His eyebrow's twitched as he brought up his hand and smelled it, jaw clenching even tighter than before.

“You gotta be kidding me.”, he hissed through by now expanded fangs and Stiles felt the fear push tears into his eyes. “Derek”, he tried again, his voice not more than a sob by now. “You have to listen to me...” But the alpha was distracted by something. Something on his neck. He brought his hand up a bit further, his index finger linking with the necklace around Stiles' neck. For a second his eyes flicked up to meet Stiles' and the younger one thought he could see pain and betrayal behind all the fury that raged in them.

“Derek, calm down.”, Scott tried to intervene again. To give his words more impact he had changed into wolf-form, eyes red and fangs showing between his lips. “Let him go.” But his words seemed to anger Derek even more, the pressure on Stiles' chest increasing and making it almost impossible for him to breath. “How often?”, he growled into Scott's direction, ignoring Stiles' rattling breathing. “How often have I been here?” Scott's eyes wandered to his friend, taking in the trembling of his eyelashes and the showing veins on his throat. “It's not the first time. But, please, just let him down and we can talk.”

Derek rolled his head and let out a frustrated roar that made Stiles' face cramp, first tears finding their way over his cheeks. “You gotta be kidding me.”, he repeated again, spitting the words in Stiles' distorted face. He stared at him for another second, before finally loosening his grip and letting the younger one go, eyes running through the room, seemingly unable to focus on anything at all. “This is sick.” And with that he was gone, the door almost falling shut again after having hit the wall hard.

“Son of a bitch”, Scott spat out, ready to sprint after the asshole who just had teared his best friend's hard out. But when he watched Stiles' knees giving in and his body sinking to a weak bundle on the ground, he knew that him chasing Derek was not the right thing to do right now. “Stiles...”, he whispered compassionately as he shifted back and walked up to where Stiles sat on the floor, his trembling hands hiding his face. His breathing was rugged and too fast.

“Stiles?” But Stiles didn't react, instead his breathing sped up even more, a squealing sound accompanying every breath he tried to draw in. “Stiles, you need to calm down. You need to breath!” Scott had seen his friend like this before, right after his mother had died. He had had several panic attacks, the first one leaving him passed out on the floor to be found by a devastated Sheriff. “Stiles!” By now Scott was almost screaming, his one hand pushing down Stiles' hands to force him to look at him while the other one pushed against his shoulder to keep him upright. “Breath with me, Stiles. You hear me? Breathe!”

  


It had taken Scott almost half an hour to get Stiles to breathe properly and another one to get him stop crying. By the time the tears stopped forcing their way into his eyes, Stiles wasn't sure whether he had really calmed down or whether his system simply ran out of water.

“You should get some sleep...”, Scott sighed and squeezed his friend's shoulder. Stiles still sat on the spot where Derek had left him, leaning against the wall with an empty expression on his face as he nodded slightly. “I guess I should.” It hurt Scott to see him like that, but at some point things had to crumble. This had had to end sooner or later and as harsh as it might have been – maybe it was for Stiles' best. At least Scott wanted to believe that.

“I'll tell the others you are hungover, so they don't come bothering you, so... just sleep for the day, okay?” Stiles turned his head around to look at Stiles and let out a deep sigh, followed by something that normally would spread into a smile, but now didn't seem to have enough strength to be more than a slight pull on his lips. “Thanks, dude. Thanks for... everything.” Scott lowered his head a bit and put on one of his small, lopsided smiles. “Nothing to thank me for.”

“You want me to stay here in case he comes back?”, Scott asked and just then noticed that that might have been a really bad thing to say. Stiles looked at him with an expression that could only read as self-destruction. “It's fine. He has every right to be angry.” He sighed, eyes focusing on knees as he went silent.

He deserved this. Or even worse. He had been a fool to hold onto the illusion of Derek seeing something more in him – feeling something more. The heated skin on his body and the red eyes clouded with lust had not been for _him_. Not really. Derek had been unconscious all these times he had visited him, kissed him, roamed over his body and marked his skin. And he felt stupid for even considering the idea of conscious Derek being able to look at him the same way. And still he had desperately held on to the thought, made use of Derek's unconscious state. He was the worst. He was a failure as the human he always claimed he was. And a shame as a werewolf, too. Maybe Derek ripping out his throat might be the best thing for everyone. He knew he wouldn't find him. Not after what he had done.

“Stiles...”, Scott's voice ripped through his thoughts and when Stiles looked up at his friend's worried expression he knew that he must have called out to him several times already. “I'm fine. Really. I... just need some sleep.” Scott didn't look like he believed him but still left after squeezing Stiles' shoulder once more. “Call if you need anything.”

  


Stiles woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. His hand searched around his mattress, a groan leaving his throat. The sun shone brightly through the window, blinding his still swollen eyes. By the time he found his phone on the floor next to his bed, the ringing had already ended, a red phone symbol signaling the missed call. Stiles glanced at the clock on his night stand and fell back into his bed groaning. It was almost afternoon already, but he hadn't slept more than about an hour since Derek had rushed out of his room – and most probably his life.

With a flick of his finger Stiles unlocked the screen of his phone and noticed that next to the missed call he also had a couple of missed messages. The first one was from Isaac, asking him whether he and Derek had fought. Stiles stared at the words for a few seconds, trying to suppress the nausea creeping up his stomach. He flipped to the next messages, this time from Scott. He must have sent it right after leaving Stiles room. 'Don't think about it too much. Things will work out somehow.' He loved Scott and his optimism, but one thing was sure: Things wouldn't just _work out_. He had seen the look in Derek's eyes. This wouldn't just go away.

The next message was again from Isaac, saying nothing but 'Sorry...' accompanied by a sticker of a wolf with his tail between his legs as he bends his head down, putting his fingers together in front of his chest. Stiles pushed himself up in his bed, his eyes glancing sideways as his mind started moving, trying to build a picture out of the bits and pieces of information he had. He flipped on to a message from Cora (where did she even get his number?): 'I don't know what happened, but whatever you did to tick my bro off, you'll be sorry for it.' The last message was from Isaac again and Stiles frowned some more, unsure what to make out of the cryptic text: 'I'm sorry I told Derek. But he was really scary.' The sticker accompanying the text this time was a crying wolf, sitting on the floor while biting on his nails.

Stiles chest tightened as his thoughts tumbled. Derek hadn't just left for his room it seemed. He must have done some rambling and tossing-things-around to have his friends send him those texts. Because if Stiles knew one thing it was that Derek would not just let his anger out by sitting down and _talk_ about what happened to them. And if they actually _would_ know all the details, Stiles was sure none of them would even be talking to him. But what was Isaac talking about? What did he tell Derek?

His phone vibrated in his hands as a new text arrived. 'You stupid fucker. Don't you even have the guts to pick up the phone?' He flipped his fingers over the screen, opening the menu of his call history and true – the phone call had been from Cora. And before he could send anything back, he heard voices from the floor. He identified one of them as Isaac, begging, while the screaming and swearing other one sounded a lot like Cora. And when angry fists flew against his door, Stiles knew that something must have happened. Something bad. And he had caused it.

“Get your wimpy ass out of there, you fucking asshole!”, Cora screamed and Stiles felt the knot in his throat tightening. “Show me your stupid face, you wimp! Or I'll break down this damn door!” Stiles heard Isaac begging her to stop it and try his best to calm her down. His instincts told him to lock himself in the bathroom or just jump out of the window and make his life come to an end that surely was less painful than having Cora take his body apart fiber by fiber.

“I swear to god, if you don't open up this door right now I'll rip off your crippled balls and show them up your ass until you can chew on them! Got that, you-” Cora's voice was cut off as Stiles opened the door. Yes, he would die a slow and painful dead at Cora's hands. But he had been in the wrong. He had made use of her brothers weakened state and god knew: He was willing to pay any price to condemn for his deeds.

“I'm so sorry...” Isaac was the first one to break the tensed silence and Stiles didn't quite know how to react. And before he actually _could_ react, Cora had him by his hair and wanked him forward. “What have you done to my brother?”, she hissed at him angrily, eyes a glaring and angry yellow. “I know it has something to do with you so spit it out!” Stiles opened his mouth but for some reason didn't find the words. And even after Cora shook his head angrily, all he could come up with was a hoarse “I'm sorry.”

“Just so you know, my brother just trashed his room! Completely! And if the academy finds this out, that might be just _it_ for his studies.” Stiles eyes went wide at that information. He had imagined Derek coming back and trashing _his_ room before ripping out his throat, but not that he would went his anger on anyone or anything else. If he would have just come clean earlier, if he had told him instead of having Derek find out the dirty way he had. It was his fault. Not only had he caused that look of deceit in Derek's green eyes, but he might have just screwed up his complete life.

“I... I'm so sorry... I shouldn't have.. We should have never....” He felt his throat close, every breath he took burning. He was about to panic again, but Cora didn't even seem to care (and who could blame her). “Like hell you should be sorry! You screwed up. Completely. And I don't even wanna know about which stupid little thing you have been fighting about. Get your ass out of this room, - get on your knees and lick his frickin boots if you need to! - and frickin apologize to him!”

Stiles stared at her, still trying his best to just keep breathing and not just fall back into a panic attack again. Cora let out a frustrated scream, untangled her fingers from his hair and stomped down the hallway. “I'll try to fix whatever is fixable in his room. You find Derek or I swear to hell I'll rip you open and feed you your own intestines!” Stiles stared after her for a second before he stumbled back and let himself slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. He ran a trembling hand through his hair as his eyes wandered restless over the floor in front of him.

Isaac knelt down in front of him, a worried expression plastered over his puppy-face. “Stiles... are you okay?”, he asked. “You... you don't look so good.” Stiles huffed as he tried to calm his speeding heart a bit. His eyes found Isaac's and his lips trembled slightly. “Where did he go?” His voice sounded weak and cracked up, but he didn't care. It probably went well with the way he looked all over- the way his eyes hurt they must be heavily swollen and most likely completely red. And given his missing sleep the circles under his eyes surely were a dark contrast to his pale face. Yeah, Isaac surely was right: He most probably looked like shit.

“I...”, Isaac broke the eye contact, his face filled with remorse. “I really didn't wanna tell him, but he insisted and... I've seen him angry before but this was different. I … I really didn't know what else to do... so...” Stiles frowned at him and closed his eyes, his head suddenly hurting like hell. “What... what are you talking about?” He opened his eyes and looked at Isaac again. “What did you tell him?”

The blonde werewolf swallowed visibly as his eyes met Stiles' again. “He insisted to know where you live.” Stiles felt the pain sting through his forehead as he pulled his eyebrows together further. “What do you mean? He... he knows my room...” And suddenly it hit him. Derek didn't ask about where he lived now. He had asked about where he had lived before coming to campus.

“Dad...”, he whispered as he stumbled to his feet, ignoring the pain spreading from his head down through his whole body. He threw back the blanket, searching desperately for his phone. The fact that he always managed to misplace stuff, that he always, always had to search desperately before finding whatever he had put down seconds before made him swear under his breath. Isaac showed up next to him, helping him search until he finally found the cellphone stuck between the mattress and the wall. Stiles ripped it from his hands and hastily dialed.

“No matter what you guys fought about, he wouldn't hurt your family...”, Isaac tried to reassure him. “He wouldn't.” But Stiles wasn't sure. Yes, Derek was – contrary what his looks and grumpy attitude made people believe – not someone to go after innocent people. And even though he must have been furious finding out about what he and Stiles had done, he wouldn't hurt his dad just to get back at him. At least Stiles didn't want to believe he did.

“Stiles?” The second the Sheriff's voice came through the speaker, Stiles finally let go of the breath he had held before. “Dad!”, his voice sounded more desperate than he wanted. “Dad, where are you?” There was shuffling in the background before the Sheriff spoke again. “I'm at home.... why? What's wrong?” Stiles let out a long breath. “Stiles? What's wrong? Did something happen?” He turned around and sat down on the bed, massaging the spot between his eyebrows with his middle finger. “I'm... I'm fine... I just wanted to call to ask how things are at home?”

His dad let out a short laugh at that. “Son, you've just been gone for two days. Don't tell me you feel home sick already?” Stiles let his hand drop and looked up at Isaac, who not very subtly listened in to what his father said. “No, dad. I just...” He couldn't tell him about anything that had happened, he knew that. His father would take him off campus in an instant if he knew about Derek's outburst – and that his son had against all his warnings kept on interacting with one of the strongest alphas in the whole area. “I just had a weird feeling... Did you get any visitors today? Or...I dunno... did things seem different?”

He basically could hear the Sheriff's frown through the silence that suddenly occupied the line. “Stiles... you sure you don't wanna tell me something?” “I take that as a 'Yes, son, everything's fine. And I'm so happy to hear you worry about me – even if it's for nothing.'?” Isaac shook his head slightly while Stiles' muscles relaxed. Everything seemed to be fine. He didn't know why Derek had insisted on knowing where he lived, but at least it seemed he didn't sprint over there to... well... to what? Stiles really had no idea. Derek had been angry, yes, but he wouldn't go after his dad to get even, he was pretty sure about that. Still he decided to go back home the next weekend again and keep in daily contact with his dad just to be sure.

“You haven't smoked weird things, did you?”, the Sheriff's voice sounded from the speaker and Stiles huffed a little laugh. “No dad. I'm fine. Just a bit tired – we had a long party yesterday.” When the Sheriff's voice replied, he sounded warm and lovely. “Get some rest, son. And don't overdo it.... take care of yourself, will ya?” Stiles turned his face a bit to hide his smile from Isaac. “Thanks dad. Love you, too.” And just as he was about to hang up he added: “And Dad... Happy new year.”

After he hung up Stiles looked at Isaac to find a somewhat sad smile on his face. And for some reason Stiles felt bad for having shown off his relationship with his father. “No Derek there?”, the werewolf asked him quickly changing topics. Stiles shook his head. “No, apparently not.” He ran his flat hand over his aching eyes and let out a small sigh. “I don't know what he would have wanted there anyway...” Isaac just nodded and ran a hand through his locks.

“I'll try to find Cora.”, Isaac said, his finger pointing over his shoulder in the direction of Stiles' door. “You try to get some more sleep. We'll find Derek. And....” He licked his lips uncertainly. “I'm sure you guys will figure out whatever happened between you. So... don't worry too much. And if you ever feel like talking.... ya know...” At this Stiles offered him a warm smile followed by a nod. “Thanks, dude.” And with this Stiles was left alone again in his room and with the silence settling around him cold crept under his skin, as his mind wandered off to Derek. Where the hell was he? And what was he up to? He wouldn't do anything stupid in all his anger. If he screwed up Derek's life more than he already had, Stiles surely wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

Unable to bear the silence in his room anymore, Stiles pulled on some clothes and made his way upstairs. The least he could do was help covering up Derek's rampage before the other students would return from their holidays.

He could hear Cora's swearing all the way down the hall already and when he pushed the door to his old room open, he almost anticipated the young girl to rip open his throat. But lucky for him Isaac was just beside her, holding Cora back by her arm before she could come anywhere near Stiles. “I'm here to help.”, Stiles stated flatly and looked around the room. Derek really had gone all out: The floor was a mess of clothes and books, several of them ripped apart and left in shredded pieces. The cupboard stood open with a hole the size of Derek's fist on one of the doors. The mattress that Stiles had used to sleep on was hanging half on the floor, a huge hole in the front and its fluffy inner scattered over the floor. There was a scratch on the wall above his former bed where Derek must have thrown the nightstand against the wall, which broken remains were still resting on the frame of the bed.

“Yeah, you better have a good look at this, shit-face!”, Cora hissed as she ripped her arm free from Isaac. She huffed, straightening her clothes in a poor attempt to calm her rage down. “Just so you know: He hasn't flipped out like this for years. He had learned to control his anger.... and....and then you....” She let out a frustrated growl and Isaac reached for her shoulder, stroking it in a soothing manner. “I'm sorry...”, Stiles muttered. He didn't know what else to say. And when Cora spit a “You better are” into his direction he didn't even flinch.

Silently he picked up some of the shredded books on the floor. Every time he bent down to pick up something else, letting his fingers run over the edges of what was left of the pages, his heart stung. He felt like he could cry again just looking at the result of Derek's outburst. He had driven him over the edge. And who knew where he was and... Stiles heart sunk... who knew whether he would come back at all. “You should go and try to find him....”, he heard himself say without looking up at the two wolves. “I'll clean up the room....” Isaac opened his mouth as if to disagree, but Cora had him by the wrist and pulled towards the door already. “You're a dead man if we don't find him, Stilinski.”

With this the two werewolves were gone and Stiles knelt alone in the chaos. He felt dizzy looking at what used to be their shared room. Now pretty much torn to pieces. But he couldn't feel sorry for himself right now – neither continue to just blame himself and be useless. He said he would clean up and he _would_. Some of the students were already returning the next morning – maybe even tonight – and the earlier they could cover the whole incident up the better. So he busied himself again with sorting the things on the floor.

After having made two piles of things that were still intact and usable and things that were definitely not able to be repaired, Stiles looked at the heavier damages like the mattress and the nightstand. He would need more help, he decided and hesitantly texted Scott. He didn't want to pull him into this matter more than he already had, but if it was about moving furniture he sure could need the help of a werewolf. So less than five minutes later Scott showed up, Allison right behind him. “Oh my gosh.”, she gaped and stepped into the messy room. “What the hell happened here?”

Stiles gave a sad, lopsided smile and answered with a small shrug of his shoulders. “Let's say I kinda pissed Derek off...” Allison's eyes went even wider as she made her way through the piles to kneel down in front of Stiles. “He didn't do anything to you, did he?” Stiles shook his head and ran a tired hand over his face. “No. Though I somehow wish he had. Would have made things easier to clean up.” At that Scott gave him an angry look. “Dude, I prefer a torn down room a million times over a dead best friend. And you know that – so don't even joke about that.”

  


They ended up replacing the broken nightstand with the one in Stiles' room. He would just tell the dorm keeper it broke when he ran it over in the night or something. The scarred wallpaper was almost perfectly covered up by Allison, toothpaste and white water color. The torn books and clothes together with the scattered inner of the mattress had found their way into a huge blue plastic bag that Scott carried directly to the dumpsters to stuff them beneath some of the older garbage. Stiles had taken a photo with his cell of all the broken books as well as a great part of the torn clothes. He didn't have enough money to substitute all of them, but he would at least try.

The only thing that seemed unable to be covered up was the torn mattress and the cupboard. They had tried to glue at least the big splinters back into the whole in the cupboard but gave up after Stiles almost got stuck on the cupboard door forever. “Maybe we can just put a poster over it for now and after things have calmed down he could file for it somehow? Make it look like an accident or something?” Scott gave Stiles an unsure look but shrugged after a second of contemplation. “We can at least try...”

Just as Stiles helped Scott turn around the mattress hoping if the whole was on the downside and they would put the linens back on it wouldn't show, Stiles' phone vibrated in his pocket. Hastily he pulled it out, unlocking the screen with a flick of his fingers to open the text message he just got. It was from Isaac telling them they finally had gotten a hold of Derek. Apparently some barkeeper had dialed for Cora from Derek's phone after he had pretty much passed out on his counter. “They're on their way to pick him up and bring him home.”, he informed the other two and couldn't hide the relief in his voice.

“Let's clean up then so they can bring him in here...”, Allison suggested and gave the two boys a encouraging smile. And by the time they left Derek's room the sun had long settled outside the windows and Stiles was feeling like he would just pass out any moment. He had thought about waiting around until Cora and Isaac arrived with Derek but he didn't have the courage to face him quite yet. All in all Derek had the right to have time to sort out how he wanted things to be in the future. So Stiles would wait until the alpha would approach him – if that ever happened.

When he reached his floor, he gave Allison and Scott a hug instead of a simple wave. “Thank you guys... really.” And after having watched the two of them making their way down the stairs, Stiles walked down the corridor. He needed sleep. A lot of it. But before he even reached his door he heard footsteps approaching.

“Hey there”, a low voice chirped behind him and Stiles turned around, not even trying to hide the disgust on his tired face. “Matt.”, he stated and the werewolf made a dramatically offended face. “And here I cam back early, looking forward to see your face again.” Stiles felt even worse then before. The last thing he needed now was Matt to creep up on him. He was tired and worn out and had no strength left in his bones. “I think I told you often enough, Matt: Leave me the fuck alone.”

Matt let his bag drop to the ground, a grin spreading on his lips as he walked up to Stiles in a few long strides. “Oh... but I guess I can't, Stiles.” He leaned over Stiles shoulder, making him flinch. “Get off my back, Matt. I mean it.”, Stiles hissed, his head starting to ache again. “I told you before: You won't be able to get to Derek through me. If you wanna challenge him at least have the guts to do so directly.” This made the smile on Matt's face freeze for a moment before it turned into a mean, teethy grin spreading all over his face.

“Oh... I see. Seems _things_ happened these last days, huh?” He let his fingers brush along Stiles' chin, but pulled them back fast enough to make Stiles leash out without touching him. Stiles got dizzy from his sudden movement and Matt's pupils widened in excitement at seeing the other one's weakened state. “Well, it was only a matter of time anyway, you know...”, the alpha mused as he circled Stiles.

And just as Stiles reached out to open the door of his room, looking forward to being able to shut the creepy werewolf out, he felt a stitch at his neck. Feeling the pained side of his neck with his hand he turned around to find Matt up close, smirking at him. The alpha lifted one of his hands, holding something that looked like a small shot as his eyes went dark. “I told you...”, Stiles muttered, his tongue suddenly heavy and his words slurred. “... you won't get to Derek by using me...”

Matt lifted his eyebrows and pursed his lips mockingly. “And I told you, too, that...” He leaned forward to sling an arm around Stiles' torso as his knees gave away under the influence of the anesthesia. “...I changed my subject of interest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the number of Subscriptions, Kudos and Hits keep climbing, I plan on doing a small tombola after reaching 'the next big level' and give away some fanart to the story. If you should have any suggestions of scenes you want to see picturized, just leave a comment on the respective fanwork (http://archiveofourown.org/works/1303666). <3


	14. Experiments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised I would update as soon as possible - and as I took some time off work because I'm frickin' sick AGAIN -.-; (I mean: Really? Not only two bad news in a row and food poisoning/norovirus but now influenza, too? In less than a month?! You gotta be kidding me!!) I spent the time I was not sleeping on writing this chapter and was able to update sooner than I thought. (Have to admit though that I did not go through it again, so if you find some mistakes, please let me know!)
> 
> ::::::::::: TRIGGER WARNING :::::::::::  
> This chapter is full of crazy Matt, so if you should be weak in regards to violent language/swearing, physical and psychological torture as well as forced drug abuse, please, PLEASE do not put yourself through this chapter. I provide a short summary of the chapter at the end, so you know what happened.
> 
> All in all I hope you guys don't hate me for what I do to Stiles once again... believe me: It's not that easy (I mean...it's Stiles! TAT)  
> I hope you still enjoy this chapter and stay tuned for the rest of the story!!  
> (Comments & Kudos as always more than welcome *V*)

When Stiles gained consciousness again, the first thing he noticed was the thrumming pain in his head. His eyes still closed he reached to rub his forehead, but found his body not reacting. Painfully slowly his eyes opened and the brightness around him stung his eyes painfully. It took several seconds for his eyes to adjust to his wakened state and his mind to catch up with what had happened. Derek had found out about his nightly visits to Stiles and stormed out and Stiles had taken it... not so well. And then Cora had come over and he had cleaned up Derek's room and then...

Suddenly it struck him. Matt. Matt had returned to the Dorm and talked to him in the hallway until... Stiles tried to touch the spot where Matt had given him the injection, but his movement was constrained midway. Stiles frowned and looked to where his hand was held in place by a metal shackle. His eyes wandered along the chain attached to it, all the way up to the ceiling of what seemed to be some kind of cellar or bunker. His throat suddenly turned utterly dry and his eyes wandered around the rest of the room, an uneasy feeling rising in his chest.

The room was sparse, besides a metal toilet in the corner and a wooden table and stool in the center there was no furniture. The walls were a molding concrete, cold and dark. Besides a small window, not even 30 centimeter wide, at the very top of the wall to his right there was no visible connection to the outer world, instead the dark room was lit up by a cold neon light hanging from the ceiling. Stiles tried to turn around to have a better look at what was behind him when a creaking sound made him turn in the direction of the metal door at the far end of the room.

Matt stepped into the room with a metallic suitcase in his hand and a grin on his face. “I see sleeping beauty finally decided to wake up.”, he mused and Stiles felt the bale rising in his throat. This guy was not just a creeper – he was sick. Sick to the bone. “What the hell did you do to me?”, he hissed in the werewolf's direction, tugging on his shackles. But Matt's grin just turned bigger as he closed the door behind him and strode through the room, setting down the suitcase on the table in the middle of the room. “Oh Stiles...”, he chirped, slowly opening the suitcase. “I don't think you should be asking about what I _did_ to you... but rather what I'm _about_ to do to you...”

As much as Stiles didn't want to let Matt get to him, he couldn't ignore the way the hair on his neck stood up and his stomach seemed to turn upside down. “I told you before that you won't get Derek to come here just by keeping me prisoner....” Stiles knew it was a weak try to keep Matt from whatever he was about to do, but when he learned one thing from watching all those Hollywood spy movies it was that as long as the villain was talking, it would by the good guy some time to figure out a way out of his misery. Not that he had high hopes on the second part, but keeping Matt occupied with talking was the best he could come up with right now. And it seemed to work.

“And I think I told you that this wasn't about Derek.” Matt let go of whatever he had taken into his hands behind the lid of the suitcase and walked around the table. Leaning against the table he crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at Stiles intensely. “You know... I might have thought about that at first maybe, but after watching you for a while...” And there was his grin again that made Stiles almost throw up. “...You know, I've noticed that you were something _special_.” He pushed himself off the table and slowly made his way up to Stiles until he could basically feel his breath on his skin. “Special indeed.”

Matt's hand reached out to touch Stiles' chin, but Stiles jerked back, his head bumping into a fence behind him that he only now noticed was there. “You are sick!”, he hissed, almost spitting in the alpha's face. But Matt seemed unimpressed, his fingers still where they were about to touch Stiles. “Oh, Stiles...”, he whispered. “I'm not _sick_.” His fingers curled in the air, the grin on his face showing off his fangs as he flashed Stiles red eyes. “I'm just... _attentive_.“ Within the blink of an eye he had Stiles by the collar of his T-shirt, pulling him towards him until they were face to face again, noses almost touching. Stiles let out a surprised yelp at the sudden movement his hands clenching to fists above his head as he gave his best to glare at the alpha in front of him. “You know Stiles...”, Matt's voice was chirping again while the index finger of his free hand slowly making its way down Stiles' skin, his claw slightly scratching Stiles skin. It moved on down his neck, drew one circle over the spot where Stiles' skin was still marked by Derek and then moved down further until hooking up on the necklace around Stiles' neck.

“It's never good to hide secrets.” Stiles swallowed hard, his heartbeat speeding up as he watched Matt's pupils dilate with excitement. “They will always, _always_ , come back to haunt you, you know.” With a quick movement of his hand, the necklace snapped off Stiles' neck. Matt looked at the jewelery in his hand with satisfaction as moved back to the table, producing a small worn out book from the suitcase. He lifted it next to his face and pursed his lips, eyes fixating on Stiles as to not miss any of his reactions. “Do you know what this is?”, he asked in a low voice while leaning his waist against the edge of the table again. Stiles swallowed his fear and put on his best possible annoyed face. “Documentation of your potty training?”

Matt let out a single loud laugh before his face went to serial killer-mode again. “Try again.” But before Stiles could throw another sarcastic comment at him again, Matt answered his question on his own. “It's a diary. Let's call it... a family estate.” He opened the book in an annoyingly dramatic way and flipped through some of the pages, though his eyes didn't leave Stiles' face. “You know, I've come across this when I was a kid... thought my ancestor was a nut-job.” His eyes sparked another red while his look on Stiles intensified. “I mean... it's genetically just impossible to cross two totally different species, right?” He lowered the book in his hand. “So... it should be impossible for _half-bloods_ to exist, right?” Calmly he set down the book on the table, his eyes getting darker as he watched the pulse twitch under the pale skin covering Stiles' throat. “But....”, he nudged his chin in Stiles' direction. “...here you are.”

“I don't know what you're talking about...”, Stiles tried, but he already knew that was a lost case. Matt had know. He had known all the time. And even if he denied it, keeping his wolf in, Matt probably could still tell. “Don't play with me Stiles...”, Matt snarled. “I tend to not treat liars very well...” The words Stiles had been about to say got stuck in his throat and he backed away as far as the chuckles allowed him. And while Stile grew more and more tense by the second, Matt relaxed against the table again, flipping through the book once more.

“You know, you were right about half-bloods having been used in the war... but it wasn't as easy as one might think it was.” He grinned as he put down the book on the table and walked around the table to search for something in his suitcase. “Half-bloods seem to have power beyond that of any alpha. But the glitch is that it takes _quite_ a lot to unleash that power...” Stiles heard the clicking sound of metal as Matt pottered about behind the metal lid that blocked Stiles' sight. It drove him crazy to not be able to see what the crazy alpha was doing – it let him no chance to prepare for a counteraction to whatever was awaiting him. “You might think a bit of isolation, moonlight and maybe some pain might help...” Stiles didn't like where this was going. “But you know... my grandfather tried that.” Matt looked up at Stiles, his grin reaching a totally new level of creepy before he fake-whispered a “ _Didn't work_.”

“What...” Stiles hated how his voice trembled. “What do you want from me?” Matt seemed to quite enjoy listening to the hints of fear in Stiles' tone. He walked around the table again and Stiles' eyes fixated on his hand, trying to figure out what exactly it was that the werewolf was hiding in his hand. “Do you really have to ask?”, Matt mused enjoying every one of the slow steps he took towards the chained boy. Leaning forward he took in the scent of Stiles' fear, savoring it, before he let his breath tingle on Stiles' ear. “I want your power.”

Stiles tried to move away, but just as his body jerked sideways he felt another stitch at his neck. Slowly Matt withdrew the silver syringe from Stiles' neck, holding his hand up for Stiles to see. “I want your power, Stiles. The full power of a half-blood.” Stiles felt his breath speed up while the spot on his neck turned numb. “What... what was that?” He hated to see the satisfaction in Matt's eyes, but he needed to know what was happening to him. He needed to know so he could somehow cope with the situation. He wouldn't lose his shit because of Matt. He couldn't.

“Let's say it's a very special cocktail. Specifically designed for your kind.” He ran one of his claws over Stiles' collar only to tear it open a second later. (Awesome. The second T-shirt in – probably – less than 24 hours. Looked like it was just his lucky day.) “Believe me...”, Matt tilted his head slightly, looking innocently at the helpless boy in front of him. “Clothes will only become obstacles for you from here on out.”

And with that said he turned around, closed the metal suitcase on the table and headed for the door. “Wait!”, Stiles shrieked, panic settling in as his body heated up and his limbs went tingly. “What are you doing to me? What- _What do you want_?!” Matt just huffed out a laugh as he watched Stiles over his shoulder. “You should learn to listen, Stiles...” He gave a last glance before stepping forward, closing the door behind him. “I want your power. Whatever it takes.”

  
  


It took Matt what seemed like an eternity to return to Stiles' sight. By then the sun had gone up again, sending mocking rays of light though the small window high up on the wall.

The only thing keeping Stiles' upright by then was the shackles cutting into his wrists, cutting off his blood. He wanted to wriggle again to at least get some of the blood circling again, but simply didn't have the strength to move even a single finger. His head was feeling like it would split open any second, the throbbing pain spreading down his neck. “Well well....”, he heard Matt purr just before he was grabbed by the hair and his head jerked up in a quick, merciless motion. His head spun, the headache thrumming down to his stomach, almost making him throwing up. He winced at the sudden direct light that flashed his face, his pupils too diluted to adjust properly, making everything too bright, too colorful for him to bear.

“What an inspirational sight you are...” Matt leaned forward into his personal space and Stiles would have backed away if his legs weren't already trembling under the little weight left for them to carry. “I wonder what Derek would do if he saw you like this.” Now this got him a reaction: Stiles eyes widened and his lips parted in an attempt to hiss some mean comment at the werewolf in front of him, but all that came out was a stuttered mess of sounds. And instead of being pissed off, Matt just laughed at him. _Laughed_. It made Stiles feel even more sick than he already did.

“You are _adorable_ , you know that.”, Matt chuckled as he pinched Stiles' nose. “But let's stop playing games here... .” His face turned dark as he stared down Stiles' clouded eyes. “I want you to show me your power.” Beneath all the mush that seemed to be his brain right now, Stiles felt the anger raise in him, the need to leap forward and bite off Matt's nose or peel of his skin, but his head just rolled sideways, limps loose and body unresponsive.

Matt glared him down for a few seconds, then let out a huff as he leaned sideways and reached for Stiles' left hand. He glanced at Stiles' indifferent face again as if he was expecting Stiles to just pretend to be fully drugged. When Stiles did not react to his movements, he wound his hand around Stiles' index finger, jaw clenching and nostril flaring, and with a sudden and harsh movement he had Stiles screaming as his finger broke, the pain rushing down his nerves and echoing in his whole body. Tears shot in his eyes as the screams tore through his lungs. Matt just circled him, eyes flashed with anticipation and a grin tugging on the corners of his mouth.

Stiles didn't know how long he had cried out, but his lungs were burning and his throat sore when his body turned a tolerable level of numbness again and the pain into a throbbing ache ticking in his nerves like constant background music. “I thought...”, Stiles shoved the words past the lump in his throat and over the edge of his lip. “I thought pain doesn't work...” He blinked away some of the tears clinging to his whimpers in order to glance at the alpha in front of him. Matt rewarded his comment with an evil grin. “Well... there's no harm in trying, right?”

“You know if I were you I'd show my power... you're only making this hard on yourself.” Matt's voice was sharp and demanding and Stiles felt his eyes roll backwards as another wave of pain and dizziness rolled over him. “I don't have any power”, he hissed through his teeth. His voice cracked and his lips trembled as he drew in a breath. “You saw the marks on my neck... my finger... I... I don't even heal... I don't have-” Matt jerked his head back again, tearing his words apart. “Oh, Stiles... I'm not talking about your _werewolf_ -power. I'm talking about your _berserk_.”

All Stiles could muster was a frown and a wince escaping his lungs. “You have read about it, haven't you?”, Matt asked in a matter of fact tone. “The half-bloods loosing it, running wild and unleashing the power to take whole troupes of wolves. You”, he leaned in close enough to be able to touch Stiles' skin with his nose. “You just have to _let go_. Show me that berserk power.” He stared at Stiles intensely before releasing his head, making it fall back down and eliciting a yelp from the tortured boy. He took two steps before turning to face Stiles again. “It's as simple as that, you know. Just _show_ me.”

Matt started to pace in front of Stiles, talking about how he had found the diary as a kid and studied every page of it, every description, every experiment, every fight and every battle; how the tale of half-bloods kept him intrigued even as he turned older and started dismissing it as nothing but the eccentric daydream of a crazy ancestor. At some point the mixture of drugs and the constant vibration of pain in his body made Stiles' doze off, earning him another broken finger. The pain kept him awake to listen further to Matt rambling on about how enthralled he had been when he first came across the idea of having found the fabled creature in no one else but him.

“Finding you changed everything.” Matt's eyes lit up with thrill as he turned to Stiles, as if waiting for him to applaud his tale of a dream coming true. “With your berserk power, no one will ever dare to defy me again. No more ' _creeper Matt_ ', no more ' _crazy-eyes_ ', no more laughing behind my back. I'll make them _crawl_. Even that bastard Hale will have to bow in front of me.”

After drawing in a stuttered breath of excitement, Matt turned around ignoring the angry but tattered mutter tumbling from Stiles' lips. He walked around the table and opened the metallic suitcase again, fumbling around its insides for longer than Stiles could bear. “You know, I really hoped my grandpa's recipe would do the trick.”, Matt commented without looking up from where his hands were busying themselves. “It would have made thing so much easier for me. And you. But being the positive person I am...” A grin spread over his face again as he produced another syringe. “... I'll just enjoy being able to get a little creative.”

He painfully slowly made his way up to Stiles again, holding the metallic device up to his face. From what Stiles could see from his angle, the color of the liquid was a very pale pink almost glowing as it broke the cold neon light of the lamp hanging from the ceiling. “You know, I've noticed some weird noises lately. They almost kept me up all night...”, Matt ran his claws over Stiles' bared chest.

“Let me guess – the voices in your head?” Stiles was surprised at how clear his voice sounded, every syllable an angry hiss without slurred sounds and squeals. But the feeling of happy surprise was immediately replaced by utter pain again as Matt's fist collided with his ribcage in full wolf-rage, pushing out even the last breath of his lungs. He coughed, desperately trying to suck in air, but the pain spread out, seemingly leaving no place for breathing.

It was almost as if Stiles could feel the exact places where his bones broke and even without looking down he could tell that his side was going to bruise. Heavily. “Don't play with me Stiles.”, Matt warned him in a chirping voice. “There's nothing good in it for you, believe me.” Silently he took in the sight of Stiles squirming in pain, a mixture of saliva and bile dripping from his lower lip. And after Stiles finally was able to draw in air again, he resumed his talk as if nothing had happened. “I've noticed that you seem to have a rather _special_ connection with Hale – even after he kicked you out.”

His fingers curled around Stiles' chin, pulling him up to look at him directly again. “And it got me thinking...” Stiles didn't like him think. He also didn't like him talk. Or touching him. Or even being alive. (And yes, he never thought he would think that about anyone ever, but Matt was simply insane. And most probably about to kill him.) “What if the key to unlock your berserk is nothing else but...” He wiggled his eyebrows as he lowered his hand holding the syringe and ever so slowly pushed down the thin needle into Stiles' lower abdomen. He leaned in, his slightly trembling breath brushing over Stiles' earlobe. “... _sexual arousal_.” He pulled back again with a chuckle vibrating in his throat as he watched the terror in Stiles' eyes.

It took some painfully long minutes of Matt staring Stiles down from where he sat on the table until the drug kicked in, spreading an almost painful heat through Stiles' body- from the spot he had been injected to his loins and all the way down to his toes. He felt his skin get itchy and his jogging pants turn uncomfortably tight. “You... you sick bastard”, he heaved once again, his breathing turning into chokes as his overly sensitive nerves sent uncontrolled sparks through his body.

“You know, Stiles, I always thought what you guys did was sick.” He lifted his hands in defense. “Oh, don't get me wrong: Not the _gay_ part – I mean it's the twenty-first century, right?” His lips curled up in a cynical grin as he watched Stiles' chest heaving faster than before and first pearls of sweat forming on his forehead.

“I am talking about the fact that an alpha like Hale would go to fuck a _monstrosity_ like you. I mean: Yes, just thinking about the _power_ you could unleash makes my skin itch with excitement.” Matt closed his eyes and let the shudder visibly run through his body as if to stress his words. ”But let's face the truth here: You're a crossbreed, a deformed creature, a mishap of nature. To think he voluntarily...” Matt made a disgusted face before a smile decorated his face again.

“Don't worry.”, he purred. “I won't sink that low.” He walked back to the table, leaning against it as his eyes rested on Stiles. “I'll just enjoy the show.”

  
  


 

The next few hours sent Stiles through personal hell as Matt watched him squirm and writhe as every movement against the damp fabric spreading over his erection made his body turn hotter and his mouth elicit sounds he never wanted the creeper-wolf hear him spout ever. After he had come into his pants the first time, tears stinging his eyes as he choked out a defeated moan, he had wished Matt would just finally kill him right there on the spot. His thoughts went back to what he could have done different. What he could have done to not end up here. With Matt. Like this. But every thought he grasped was cut lose again by another spark of heat, another shiver running through his body, another urge to move some more, to get off so the tingling in his body would just finally stop.

He felt Matt's stare on him – excitement, arousal and disgust all at the same time – and it made him want to throw up. He felt sick just thinking about how the alpha's excited yelp hat floated through the room when Stiles' mind had wandered off for a second and his eyes had changed a golden yellow. How could he even think of Derek in this situation? What kind of sick bastard was he really to have his mind wander to _him_ when this sensation he felt riding his body right now was so nothing like what the broody alpha had caused in him night and night again. This was the aftermath of some fucked up aphrodisiac forcing him to humiliate himself in front of a person he despised more than anyone else. It had nothing in common with the warm feeling that spread through his lower abdomen whenever he tasted Derek's heated mouth or the rush of blood the traces of Derek's fingers caused when roaming over his skin. It was _nothing_ the same and Stiles felt like slicing his own throat for his mind having made any kind of connection still.

Suddenly Matt was up in his private space lifting his chin with one of his fingers. He clicked his tongue while grinning down at the picture of misery that was Stiles. “That's no good, Stiles...”, he murmured his eyes unnervingly fixated on where Stiles' cock was still rock hard, twitching uncontrollably in his pants. “You gotta give me more than _that_.” His eyes went up to Stiles' fangs and finally fixated on his blood-shot, tear-stained eyes. When the only reaction he got from the chained boy was a frown followed by a stuttered groan, Matt wanked him up by his hair. “I swear to you, _Stilinski_...” The threat was an almost inaudible hiss, but echoed in Stiles' head. “If you don't give me what I want, I'll make you regret it. You and every single one of your _friends_.”

For just a split second Stiles forgot about his painful erection, about the tingling heat in his loins and literally snapped at Matt, fangs bared and a warning growl rumbling in his throat. Matt just gave him an unimpressed look before shoving something in Stiles' mouth, closing his hand over it until Stiles had no choice but to swallow. “What...”, Stiles slurred. But before he could even finish his question Matt was walking towards the door again. “Give me what I want, Stiles. Or I will get really uncomfortable.” The light was turned off and when the door closed behind Matt, Stiles was left in the room with nothing but the beating of his heart and the low moans dripping from his lips.

 

He could feel Derek's fingers on his cheek. Long, gentle strokes tracing the lines of his bones. He opened his eyes and felt a smile spreading on his face. “Hey there...” Derek tilted his head slightly to press a small kiss on Stiles' forehead before pulling the smaller one closer. Rays of sun were warming Stiles' skin as he closed his eyes once more to listen to the werewolf's steady heartbeat. “Stiles...”, Derek murmured, his breath tickling Stiles' ear. “Stiles...”

“Stiles!” He teared open his eyes and found himself standing in his room. “It's your fault...”, his father snarled at him, eyes tear-stung and full of anger. “It's all your fault.” Stiles stared at him in confusion, not knowing what got his father so angry. “Dad...”, he tried to calm his old man down, but his father cut him off. “If you just never had been born...” Only now Stiles noticed the bottle of Whiskey in his father's hand, the brown liquid angrily crashing against the glass with every wrathful gesture. “Dad, what are you talking ab-” “You killed her, Stiles.” The Sheriff pointed an accusing finger at Stiles', his face distorted with rage and utter pain. “You killed your mother. It's all because you were born.” Stiles stumbled backwards as if to dodge his father's words. “Because you're a _monstrosity_.”

“A monstrosity, Stiles” Stiles lifted his head to look into Matt's smirking face. “That's what you are.” He circled him, steps slow and stretched. His eyes focused on Stiles', feeding on every hint of fear or pain he could find. “Why else do you think no one comes to find you?” His steps stopped in front of Stiles, pushing him back until the cold fence bit into Stiles' shoulders. “No one cares about you, Stiles.” Matt tilted his head slightly as he put on a dramatically compassionate face, though his eyes stayed cold. “Not Scott. Not Lydia. Not one of your werewolf-friends. Not even your father.” His lips curled up as he could see Stiles' lips tremble. “And especially not Derek.”

He felt fingers gripping his upper arm, turning him around in a harsh pull. “How _sick_ can one be?”, Derek barked at him. His brows were hanging lower above his eyes than usually, contrasting the bright red of his eyes. “You knew I was unconscious...” His grip tightened, claws digging painfully deep into Stiles' skin. “...and yet you pulled me into your bed.” Stiles opened his mouth, trying to defend himself but closed his mouth after realizing that there was nothing he could say in return. “I don't care how desperate you might be to get some action...” Derek downright spit the words into his face, making Stiles flinch with every syllable. “...but to think that you made me touch a freak like you...”

Stiles jerked as he ripped open his eyes to stare at the empty room in front of him. For a second it felt like all his senses were on fire, the orange rays of sun coming through the small window almost blinding him, his heavy breathing and the rattling of his chains echoing from the walls loud enough to give him a head ache. But then the rush of adrenaline stopped and his muscles turned limp and sore again, his legs having a hard time keeping him upright. He could hardly feel his hands anymore, the only thing assuring him they were still attached to his body the numb throbbing of pain spreading from his broken fingers down to his shoulder.

For a while Stiles found himself staring at the floor. It took him some time to realize he was drooling, but no matter how gross he found it, his body seemed to not even have the strength anymore to swallow properly or close his mouth. Tears welled up in his eyes as slowly the memory of his dreams caught up with him. Those had been dreams, he tried to convince himself though a part of him was unsure what was dream and what was truth anymore. He felt weak and empty and just wanted to drift off into oblivion.

  
  


Matt checked in on him three more times. At least Stiles thought he did – to be frank, he wasn't too sure what was what anymore. Whatever Matt had given him messed with his head. He had lost consciousness a couple of times, only realizing he had been out by the changing of light coming from the window. It got him scared as he couldn't quite remember how long he had been confined already. A day? Two? Or had even more time passed? He remembered he had been released far enough to reach the toilet one time. The way his pants smelled and clung to his legs, that must have not been enough though Stiles' didn't remember wetting himself.

Worse than the blackouts were the dreams and hallucinations that haunted him whenever Matt left him alone in the darkness. Moments of happiness with his friends would turn to haunting nightmares where he tried desperately to suck in air while Scott's fingers closed tightly around his neck, forcing the veins on Stiles' forehead to tick impatiently while his eyes rolled back into his head. Derek's heated kisses and roaming hands turned into a desperate try to stay alive while the alpha's claws dug into his flesh, ripping it open as if it was nothing. And even after he had woken up, he could feel his best friend's grip on his neck, could hear his father's swearing, Lydia's disgusted spit, Matt's deafening laughter.

“You didn't want it any other way...” Matt paced restlessly in front of him, patience obviously having lost him somewhere along the way. “I really didn't want to go that far, you know...” Stiles felt a frown form on his forehead, though he wasn't sure whether he was just imagining it. “I didn't want to involve anyone... but you didn't leave me any choice.” Stiles mind took a few seconds to process the information Matt fed him. He rolled his head, staring at Matt pacing. He obviously had lost the patience to wait for Stiles' voluntary shift. “I'm not the type to kill for fun, you know...” Stiles' felt his heartbeat speed up and his breaths turn faster. If Matt was implying what he thought he was, he would never forgive himself... .

“You know the redhead was no deal for me...” Stiles winced. This couldn't be true. It couldn't. “And I figured as your interest moved on, killing a mere human wouldn't be enough.” Matt had to be lying. He felt the blood rushing through his veins, giving him an almost unbearable headache. This just _couldn't_ be true. “And there wouldn't be a real challenge if it wasn't a wolf, right? An alpha for example?” Stiles head shot up, his eyes widened and a threatening growl building in his throat.

Stiles' reaction made Matt light up, his eyes diluted as a dark grin spread his lips. “Who do you think I took from you, hm?” A chuckle dripped from his lips as Stiles snarled at him, his muscles tensing up with anger. “Or let's ask that way... Which one would you prefer?”

His head felt like exploding and his muscles tensing too tight around his bones, but all Stiles' could think about was how much he wanted to rip out Matt's throat. He could take being drugged. Being tortured. He could take all of it. But not sacrificing any of his friends. “Scott?” A cheep rang in his ears and his eyes burned, adding to the pain that spread throughout his body as he pulled on his shackles. “Or Derek?”

Stiles felt his chains snap, the metal crashing to the floor with a loud rattle. He arched his back and threw back his head, letting out a throaty howl that was loud enough to sent the door and the glass of the window vibrating.

  
  


  
  


When Stiles regained consciousness, darkness blocked his sight. Turning his head slightly, he could make out Scott standing a few meters away from him, wolfed out and his eyes fixed on Stiles. Or... no. Not Stiles. But something else. It took him a few seconds to follow Scott's stare to the creature that lured above him. Only now Stiles realized the darkness above him being fur. The fur of a huge black wolf, fangs bared and an angry growl rumbling in its throat.

Stiles blinked sleepily. His eyelids were still heavy and his limbs sore and worn out. He didn't really know what had happened or what day it was or.... pretty much anything. His mind was too slow, every thought he caught immediately slipping out of sight again. It was like he was staring at the puzzle pieces, but was unable to put them together. And it frustrated him.

Why was Scott here? And what were those sounds? Whom did the other voices filling the air belong to and why were they so rushed? What was that wolf doing here? Why was it hovering above him? And what was this biting smell that crept up his nose and made his stomach turn....?

“Calm down!” he finally entangled the syllables that came from Scott's direction. “We need to get him out of here. He needs a doctor!” But Stiles couldn't quite figure out what the other one was talking about. Who he was talking about. Or to. Until...

Stiles slowly lifted his right hand. It hurt to move and only now he remembered the dark bruise on his side that Matt had left on him. Pain flickered over his face for a moment, but he willed it down. Slowly his fingers moved through the soft fur, finding their way up to the wolf's cheek. The animal looked down at him, eyes red with anger, hot breath accompanying a low growl washing away over Stiles' face. “It’s okay….” Stiles whispered, eyes falling shut again. He was exhausted and just keeping his hand up seemed to take up almost all the strength he had left in his body. ”Everything will be okay...”

The wolf stayed unmoved, but Stiles noticed the angry rumbling in his throat fading. He blinked exhaustedly before his eyes fixated on the creature above him again. “You’re… beautiful. You know that?”, he smiled weakly while his hand moved around the wolf's neck. Carefully he pulled the creature closer until their foreheads met , ignoring the stinging pain spreading through his torso.

He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath, taking in a sweet and alluring smell he was so acquainted with by now. A weak smile played on his lips and silent tears tugged on his eyelashes as his fingers caressed the soft strain of hair. “You.... you came for me... ” And when he opened his eyes again Stiles was looking into a pair of familiar, but nonetheless mesmerizing green human eyes. “You really came for me...”, he mumbled, eyes falling shut again.

Derek looked at him silently, his breath still ragged from the shift, and Stiles managed opened his eyes again, taking in the other one's unsettled expression. He wanted to know what that expression on the alpha's face was – Pain? Sadness? Anger? Fear? Compassion? - but before his clouded mind could process any clear thought, Scott was by his side, human now, pushing into his field of vision.

“Stiles! Thanks god...I thought....” He bit back some tears and pressed his fingers tightly around Stiles' shoulder. “Thanks god you're okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Summary:
> 
> Stiles finds himself chained in a cellar room/bunker where Matt reveals that he knows about Stiles' true form. His grandfather had left a diary where he described how he 'worked' half-bloods during the times of war that had Matt intrigued since childhood. As he had told himself that the talks about half-bloods was nothing but a fairytale, he was more than excited to find living proof of their existence in Stiles. Matt is set on forcing Stiles to lose control and go berserk (as the half-bloods did when they raided whole armies during the war) to use that power for his own. As Stiles is not willing to go berserk (well... he doesn't know how to...), Matt goes great length to make him including breaking his fingers and ribs and using several heavy drugs on him. As none of this works, he tells Stiles that he left him no choice but to take even more drastic measures and implies that he has not only killed Lydia but also one of the alpha's by his side. This sends Stiles over the cliff and releases a wolf side in him that Stiles hasn't shown before.  
> Stiles loses consciousness but when he comes to he finds himself under a huge black wolf which turns out to be Derek. Scott rushes up to them and is more than just happy to see his friend again.


	15. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the new chapter. A bit shorter than the others, but I hope you enjoy it still!:)  
> (And if you wanna make me feel all warm and fuzzy leave me Comments,Kudos or Cookies! Cause they make me smile ^v^ )
> 
> Also: The next update might take me a bit more than a week as, well,the upcoming week will be super busy for me and I fear I won't find much time to write.... but I promise I'll try my best to get some writing for the next chapter done today and update as soon as possible!

“What...” Stiles' brain wasn't catching up with the situation quite yet. “What happened?” Scott just gave him a compassionate look as he bit down on his lip and gave Stiles' shoulder another nudge. Derek just stared down at him as if he just had come back from the dead. And to be frank: Stiles wasn't so sure whether this was really that far from what had happened to him... .

He remembered that he had met Matt in the hallway, that he took him to a cellar. He remembered how his bones had cracked under Matt's fingers, remembered how his body and mind had suffered through the drugs Matt had given him. He remembered Matt's grin as he talked to him about... something. It took him a few seconds before his eyes widened and he hastily tried to sit up. The best his body was able to do right now was bop his head up and twitching his arms. Shaking he clung his fingers in where they found Derek's biceps.

“Lydia...”, he huffed breathlessly. “Where's Lydia?” Scott answered him with a puzzled look on his face. “Lydia? She...She's outside with Allison and the twins... why?” Stiles let his head fall to his side, a relieved sigh dripping from his lip. But just as he was about to close his eyes and let his muscles relax again, his eyes shot open again.

What if this was just another dream? Matt had not only talked about Lydia... but both Scott and Derek were here with him. Both were alive. And if Scott's words were true, Lydia, too, was unharmed. What if the drugs still played a trick on his mind? What if he actually still was with Matt?

“Show me your hand!”, he shrieked, panic trembling in his voice. Derek seemed to finally come out of the daze and furrowed his brows. “What?” His voice sounded weak and a bit lower than Stiles' remembered it and it made him panic even more. “Your hand! I need to see your hand!” Confusedly Derek shifted his balance to just his right arm and held up his hand so Stiles could see it. The smaller one let his hand drop from his bicep and frantically started counting the alpha's fingers again and again and only believed the count of five when he confirmed every single one of his fingers by matching them up with his own. Also five.

“This is reality.”, he sobbed, the words almost getting caught in his throat. His lips started trembling as tears started welling up in his eyes again. “This is real. You...you guys are real...” His fingers tightened around Derek's as he tilted his head to the side in a poor attempt to hide his tears from the two alpha's crowding his personal space. Derek's lips tightened slightly as he closed his fingers around Stiles' hand, squeezing them carefully while Scott looked like he himself was about to start crying any second, too.

A cough broke the silence that had descended in the room as Cora cleared her throat. “Sorry to kill the mood...”, she started as she walked up from the busted door frame. “...but I really think we should get him _out_ of here and _into_ some place he can get treatment. Anyone agreeing?” Scott pulled up his nose in a silent sniff and nodded while Isaac just shyly lifted his hand as he popped up behind Cora. “And... Derek?”, she added after her brother didn't quite react to her words. “Dude... put on some clothes. If anyone walked in on you guys right now you'd be _very easily_ misunderstood.”

This got not only Derek's but also Stiles' attention. Almost simultaneously they looked first straight at each other, then down Derek's muscular chest to the rest of his body: The shift from his complete wolf form had left him kneeling on all fours over Stiles' comparably small and lean body – bare naked. Derek's face flushed as his eyes glanced at Stiles for a split second again before he let go of the younger one's hands to push himself hastily off the floor, both of his hands now desperately trying to cover up his front. His eyes wandered around the room until they found his clothes torn near the entrance and something extremely close to a whine bubbled in his throat. “Isaac!” Derek's voice cracked slightly as he tipped his chin in the younger wolf's direction ignoring the huge grin on his sisters face. “My sports bag should be in the camaro.” The blonde boy didn't need much more of instruction and was already on his way out, while Stiles slowly took in the full scene that surrounded him.

The door behind Cora had been torn from its angles – most probably the result of his werewolf friends making their entrance. He could see a stone staircase leading the way upstairs, glaring light illuminating the upper steps. Stiles' eyes slowly wandered over the remains of the door lying on the concrete floor to Derek's ripped clothes. He stared at the rags of fabric and noticed after what seemed like almost never ending seconds that the tattered gray garment looked extremely like Derek's favorite henley... and he felt a little guilty. But then he noticed something was off. The clothes were not just torn from the shift. There was blood on them. Dark, bloody stains that made Stiles' stomach turn again.

Had he hurt Derek? Had that been the reason why the older one had had to turn into his wolf form? What if he really had gone Berserk? What if he lost it so far that he had even gone after his friends? After Derek?

Stiles felt the bile rise up his throat again. It was as if he could smell the blood. Rusty, rotten and heavy. It felt like the air suddenly thickened, the scent dripping down his lungs, making it hard for him to breath. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the other side, just couldn't stand thinking about what he might have done during the time he hadn't been conscious. Ignoring the sound of Isaac's footsteps tapping down the stairs and the rustling of a bag being handed over, Stiles tried to swallow, tried to breath. But it felt like the bloody smell was accumulating in his throat, clogging it.

He felt Scott's fingers on his shoulder. Voices reaching his ears, fuzzy and dull, and it took him a while to untangle the damp sounds. “Breath, Stiles!”, Scott said – screamed – directly next to his face. And as if the command had broken some kind of spell, Stiles tore open his eyes and drew in a strangled breath. The first one in almost a minute, as he noticed only then. His lung burned with every forced breath he tried to take, following Scott's exaggerated example of how to breath correctly, but his lungs just started burning even more. He tried to suck in air, but close to nothing reached his lungs. He felt dizzy, his head about to explode. Scott still screamed at him, he could see his mouth move and his chest heaving dramatically, but the sounds were swallowed by the sound of blood rushing through Stiles' ears.

Then suddenly Derek was by his side, the white T-shirt he had so hastily put on stretching over his chest as he reached down to pull Stiles carefully from the floor. “You have to calm down, Stiles...” Derek's eyebrows were drawn down and his jaw clenched tight, a mixture of guilt, sorrow and anger shimmering in his eyes. “We'll get you out of here, Stiles, I promise. But first you have to calm down.” Stiles huffed, head thrumming painfully and eyes burning with tears again as he tried to push the panic attack down. But that smell. It lingered on his tongue like a rusty, rotten coating. It sucked every breath he took right back out of him. 

Derek's arms found their way around Stiles' back, pulling him up a bit further until Stiles quivering body leaned against the werewolf's broad chest. “Breath.”, Derek said calmly, his face so close to Stiles neck that the younger one could feel his breath on his ear. “Breath.”, he repeated again and without really knowing how, Stiles relaxed slightly. The muscles in his neck that until now had been so tensed that they had almost strangled him, seemed to soften at the timbre of Derek's voice, allowing Stiles to suck in air again, desperately. After the first three squealing intakes of air, Stiles shut his eyes, leaning further into Derek's body. He tried to concentrate on his warmth instead of the simmering pain spreading through his chest, hammering in his head.

With the first real full draw of air he took, Derek's smell washed over his tongue – sweet and earthy and tasting like home – and the sickening feeling of blood and death slowly evaporated. He didn't know how long it took, but after a while of Derek's fingers running up and down his back carefully, Stiles' breath had steadied again and the faint tremble that had had a grip on his body had disappeared. Exhaustion took him over again and he was about to forget where he was and what had happened... all he wanted to do was sleep. Right there in Derek's arms, bathed in his scent while his long fingers gently caressed his bare skin.

“We called the police.” Stiles didn't know since when Lydia had joined them in the room, but when he forced his eyes open again he could see her standing next to Cora in the door frame, Allison and the twins right by her side. When he met her eyes she gave a small smile and Stiles felt bad for putting that hint of sadness in it. “I guess they will be here soon. We'll stay here and try to explain the situation. You better get him to a hospital.” Stiles could see Scott nod frantically, reaching out for his friend, but Derek blocked his hands with his arm.

“I got this. You best call your mom so she prepares a room or something.” Stiles thought he saw the two werewolves exchange glances, before Derek added in a low voice “That's safer than a regular hospital.” Scott after hesitating for a second gave a single sharp nod and was already on his feet dialing on his phone a second later, walking out of the room as to have better signal.

Stiles could feel Derek's fingertips draw small circles on his lower back and closed his eyes at the soothing sensation. But he couldn't quite shake off the unsettling feeling settling in his stomach. No one had said anything about how they had found him. Or what he had looked like when they did. Had he wolfed out? Or had he been in his human form all the time? All in all... what had happened after he had howled? When had his friends come here? And how? And...

“What happened to Matt?” Derek's body twitched at his words, his muscles visibly tensing while the wolves exchanged worried glances. Lydia and Allison lifted their eyebrows, looking just as clueless as Stiles. 

Stiles wound himself out of Derek's arms, almost falling over backwards as his muscles weren't ready for the sudden impact of his own weight. “What?”, he asked, the look his friends shared and Derek's hardened face making him restless. It was Lydia's shriek that broke the heavy silence that had settled in the room. Stiles followed her eyes to the corner of the room behind him. And suddenly the sticky taste of blood was back on his tongue and his stomach finally turned forcing him to lean over, emptying whatever what left in his stomach on the floor.

Matt's body lay in the shadowed corner in a puddle of dark, thick blood. The sleeves of his shirt were torn, the blood covering the slashes on his skin already starting drying. But the wounds on his arms were only minor compared to the gaping hole that embellished his chest and throat. His head was strangely twisted, his eyes torn open and Stiles felt like he stared right at him. “Did... did I...?”, Stiles choked between chucking bile. Cora swallowed hard, her eyes turning sad, while Isaac just shook his head. Scott came running from the door, the phone tugged safely away in his pocket. “No, Stiles...” But before he could finish his sentence Derek's rumbling voice interrupted him. 

“It was me.”

 

Derek didn't look at him or anyone else. Instead he just stared at the floor in front of him, jaw clenched and lips pressed in a tight line. Stiles looked up at him through his lashes, another wave of nausea shaking his body, though it seemed there was nothing left inside of him to throw up. “It was me.”, Derek repeated, his eyes closing for a moment before they turned to look directly at Stiles. “I killed him.”

His voice sounded even, but his eyes betrayed his composed outer, giving away the turmoil of sadness, anger and fear that raged in him. “I ripped out his throat.” The room fell silent again while everyone waited for Stiles' reaction. But to be frank: He didn't know how to react on that. His brain was working too slow and while Derek had just killed someone – which normally should be something awful – Stiles couldn't help but feel  _ relieved _ . 

Relieved that he wouldn't have to fear for the creepy alpha to come after him again. That this whole torture was over. Once and for all. And if he was really true to himself, he was grateful that it hadn't been him who took a life while having lost control. He hadn't run berserk and killed someone (even though most likely everyone would have understood if he had done it in that kind of situation). 

He was a half-blood, but no liability like everyone made his species look like.

Stiles stared at Derek before wiping his mouth with his arm, forcing himself to sit back up. Derek watched over his movements carefully, for a split second reaching out as if to help him steady himself, but retreating his hand before he actually touched him. When Stiles' position seemed stable, he averted his eyes again, the muscles in his jaw ticking. Silently Stiles lifted his hand and placed it hesitatingly on the alpha's biceps. He was grateful it hadn't been him that killed Matt, that Derek took that burden for him. But seeing Derek like that made a part of him wish that it had been him after all.

Derek had eaten enough shit in his life already... to think that Stiles was the one adding to his dark experiences made his chest tighten with guilt. He wanted to say something to make it better. To make things different. But there were simply no words to change what had happened. So instead Stiles took a deep breath and gave Derek's arm a weak squeeze. “Can you help me get up?”, he asked almost shyly. And when Derek finally met his eyes again he added with a weak smile “I just wanna get out of here.”

It was Scott who moved first, nodding to Derek as he reached for Stiles arm, carefully as to not inflict more damage to his side than there already was. Derek let out a short growl but let Scott help Stiles stand up. His legs were still too weak to actually carry the weight of his body, so Stiles was more than happy when Derek helped steadying himself by putting a carefully placed arm around his waist. (Stiles really had to wonder how they with all their heightened werewolf-senses were able to stay this close to him considering the awful smell he gave off...)

“What about the police?”, Allison asked as the boys slowly moved for the door. “I'm pretty sure they will want to talk to you, Derek. After all... well...” Her eyes darted into the direction of Matt's motionless body before settling on the alpha again. Derek huffed out a sigh, his eyes just barely glancing in the direction of his victim before settling on where his body was lined up with Stiles'. “Tell them I'll stop by the office later on. I...” He frowned, his breath stuttering slightly. “Right now Stiles is the higher priority.”

 

Derek carefully placed him in the back of the car, sliding in right next to him. “Wait a second”, Stiles heard Scott's confused voice as he was already dozing off. “Aren't you driving?” Derek let out a growl, throwing his keys at Scott without any more of an instruction. Scott blinked a few times before nodding and throwing himself in the driver's seat, Allison already plugging her safety belt while Cora pushed herself into the car next to Derek. Stiles let out a strangled moan as his crippled hand brushed against the door handle sending stinging pain down his nerves.

Suddenly all eyes were on him and Stiles felt bad at facing all the worry in his friends' faces. “I'm fine, guys...”, he forced a weak smile on his lips. “Just... maybe we could get out of here?” Scott nodded, his fingers already busying themselves with fumbling the key into the lock. Allison reached back and gave his knee a gentle nudge. Cora uttered an almost inaudible apology (Stiles didn't really know why, though.) and Derek carefully wrapped his arm around Stiles' body, pulling him close until Stiles was able to lean against his chest.

“Get some rest...”, he mumbled and Stiles could feel the alpha's warm fingers wrap around his aching wrist, carefully, tender. And before he even had turned his head to look at the older one, he could feel the pain fade away, replaced by a slightly tingling warmth as his body relaxing against Derek's body. “I'll wake you when we're there.” Derek's voice was deep and a little bit more husky than Stiles had remembered it. There was some sad ring to his words and Stiles wanted to look at him, study Derek's face to get an idea just what was going through his mind, but with the sharp pain in his wrist and side gone, his body was finally taken over by exhaustion and his eyelids turned too heavy to keep open.

 


	16. Treatment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've kept you waiting for quite a while (blame my work. And Supernatural. I started reading it due to all the fanfictions here and.... it took away some of my writing time, I have to admit.) BUT to make up for it (and because there was just a lot I wanted to handle before getting to the next stage) this chapter is rather long. I haven't betad it or anything so if you find errors, please let me know. And of course: Hope you enjoy this chapter!!!  
> Also: I can't believe this story turned so long... and to be frank at first I had everything planned out a bit different, but with everyone's overwhelming support the ideas and situations just kept slipping in my mind... so: Thank you guys so so much!! There's only very few chapters left and I really hope you stay happy and supporting with this story until the end! (Also see the notes at the end!)
> 
> Kudos and Comments make me dance with joy :D
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: There are rather graphic descriptions of trauma and panic attacks in this chapter. Please only read if you can handle it.

Derek didn't wake him when they arrived. Instead Stiles woke up in a white room he didn't recognize, a drip attached and a monitor beeping away next to the bed. Stiles still felt sleepy, his eyes still unable to focus properly and his body heavier than ever before. He closed his eyes again, listening to the regular beep and tried to get his memories in order. It didn't work.

“How do you feel?”, a low voice asked and Stiles opened his eyes again to look at his dad. He sat on a chair next to his bed and smiled sadly, his hands carefully squeezing Stiles'. He looked older than he had when Stiles had been home for Christmas, Stiles thought to himself. His skin was ash-pale and the circles under his eyes too much of a contrast. He looked haggard, the worry having graved deep wrinkles into his skin.

“Like shit...” Stiles tried to smile, but couldn't say for sure whether he succeeded or not. But his father's smile turned a little less sad and that was all that counted. “But you know me... it takes a lot more to shut me up.” The sheriff shook his head slightly and leaned forward to give his son a hug and even though it turned out to be an awkward mess of arms around Stiles' head, it felt warm and safe and just like what Stiles needed. “Thank you for coming back to me alive...”, Stiles heard his father mutter against his scalp and he couldn't help but pressing his face closer into the crook of his fathers arm. “I'll always will. You know that.”

Someone cleared his throat and the Sheriff pulled back, wiping his eyes in the motion before turning around to look at Deaton. “It's good to see you up.”, he greeted Stiles and stepped closer until his hands rested on the edge of the mattress. “I'm sure there are many people you want to see and there is a lot you have to sort out after everything that happened to you, but if possible I would like to do a check up first to see whether you need any other stabilization.”

Stiles frowned. “Since when are you a doctor?” Deaton just looked at him, the usual calm smile on his lips. “I'm not officially a doctor, but given your _specific circumstances_ , your friend Scott made the right choice to include me in your treatment. Information about treatment of cases like yours have been handed down in our family for centuries and I am sure if we combine that knowledge with the medical skills of Ms. McCall we will get you up and running again in a few weeks.”

And as if this had been her cue, Scott's mum stepped into the room and before Stiles knew what happened her hands cupped his face as she looked down at him, back slightly hunched and tears clinging to the corners of her eyes. “Don't you ever disappear like that again...” She pressed a small kiss on his forehead and gave an encouraging smile before letting go of him again and instead turned to squeeze his father's shoulder slightly. “I almost thought I wouldn't get to hear you compliment my lasagna ever again.”

“You'll bring me some of that later?”, Stiles rewarded her with a weak smile. “I think I could need something to eat. And if you ask me I earned my right to have some of the worlds greatest lasagna.” Melissa gave him a smile as she sat down on a chair next to his dad. “I'll bring you some tomorrow, okay? But first we have to see what we can do to get you fixed up again.”

“I'm sure it's not easy, but concerning what has happened over the days you've been missing...”, his father started with a bitter look on his face, but was stopped by Melissa's gentle but firmly placed hand on his arm. “Interrogation can wait... First he needs to stabilize, then we can see to that.” And turning to Stiles with a sorry face she added: “... and the same goes for visitors for now. I told Scott he could come in the day after tomorrow.” While Stiles appreciated her thoughtfulness he felt a bit sad to wake up without his friends around. Though the heavy feeling of his limbs and the laziness of his mind were definitely agreeing with her, he just wasn't sure he could handle being alone.

“What... what's wrong with me?”, Stiles asked, his voice slightly trembling and close to a whisper. The memory of the injections Matt forced on him sparked up again. The fact that he had no clue what Matt had drugged him with terrified him. But what scared him even more was what might have happened in the time he couldn't remember. He had been too tired to check his body and with the ache having had spread through his whole body he couldn't be sure whether there were other wounds to his body but his broken fingers and his crashed side.

Instinctively he reached for his blanket, tried to lift the blanket covering him to search his body for traces Matt had left on him, but Melissa rushed forward and stopped his movement halfway. “You shouldn't move.”, she said worriedly, pointing with her chin at the tube connecting his hand to the drip standing behind his headrest. “You have two broken fingers.” Her voice trembled slightly as she seemed to imagine what Stiles must have been through. “And three of your ribs are also broken, but luckily your organs weren't damaged. Besides that you have bruises on your hip and neck.... you...” She swallowed hard and before she found her words again, Deaton continued her question. “You were drugged,weren't you?”

Stiles watched his father bury his face in his hands, letting out a sharp breath. Melissa bit down on her lips and looked at him with sad, compassionate eyes. “Do you have any idea what drug he gave you?” Stiles closed his eyes and shook his head. He suddenly felt a lot more tired and exhausted than before, but he knew he had to answer these questions for them to be able to adjust his medication if needed. “I..” He felt his father reach for his hand as he cleared his throat. “I'm not sure... the first one... he said it was a 'special cocktail' to make...” His eyes flickered to Melissa for a second as he hesitated to speak the words, but Deaton gave him an assuring nod. “She knows about your identity. And nothing you share with us here will leave this room.”

Stiles gave a small nod, took a deep breath and continued forcing the tangled memories before his inner eye. “He said it was a special cocktail to make me shift, to... to show my ' _berserk_ '.” Stiles could feel his fathers grip tighten around his fingers and hear him utter an almost silent apology. He tilted his head slightly to have a better look at him, to let him know that nothing of this had been his fault. Yes, his dad had encouraged him to keep his true identity hidden...but who could have guessed a scumbag like Matt would come along and do the things he did to Stiles...

Deaton's calm voice brought Stiles' attention back to the conversation. “You said 'the first one'. How many injections did he give you after that?” Stiles closed his eyes and tried to remember, his head starting to throb painfully while he tried his best to remember any detail that might be important. “The second one was some kind of...” He took two sharp breaths. “...some kind of aphrodisiac. It... I think it was kinda pink?”

His father jerked at his words, but before he could do anything hasty, Melissa assured him that “We could not find traces of Stiles having been... _penetrated_.” She almost choked on the last words and his father didn't look any less agitated, but Stiles let out a sigh of relief. He had blacked out every now and then and parts of his body had been numb from the drugs and the pain. He hadn't tried to think about whether Matt had stood by his words to 'just enjoy the show' or not, had locked the possibility that maybe he had done something worse than just watch him coming desperately away in the far, far back of his mind. Who would have thought he would be this glad one day to still be a virgin?

“Was there more drugs after that?” Deaton asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest as if to brace himself for whatever else Stiles was about to tell them. Stiles frowned, trying hard to remember, but it felt like his head was about to explode any second making him unable to concentrate on anything anymore. “I... I don't know... there might have been? It's just that... I... to be frank... I'm not sure what out of all the things I experienced was a hallucination, what a dream and what real...”

“It's okay...”, Melissa rested a hand on his knee. “We can make do with that information. And in case anything else is running in your body, we'll be right here to help, okay?” Deaton wanted to interrupt her, most likely ask more questions, but Melissa shook her head before he had even opened his mouth. “I think he really needs rest now.”, she said looking at Stiles, presenting him with a warm smile that somewhere deep down made Stiles utterly miss his mom. “And while you sleep and gain some strength, we will work out the final details for a treatment that fits you.” And with that said she stood up and pushed the two men towards the door – not without letting his dad give Stiles' another hug – , carefully tugged him in and checked the drip once again before closing the door behind them, leaving Stiles being finally overwhelmed by exhaustion and drifting off into sleep not even a few minutes later.

 

Stiles was woken by his own trembling body and the nausea twisting his stomach. Without knowing quite why he felt terrified, his heart was racing, the emptiness of the sleep he woke from weighing heavy on his mind. It took a second for him to take in his surroundings, to remember that he had been brought to this provisional sickroom, that Scott and the others had come to save him. _That Derek had come for him_.

Matt was gone and he should feel safe. He should feel relieved. But he felt like the darkness that had surrounded him in the bunker for the last few days had seeped into his skin, into his bones, spreading through his veins, had made him its host and fed off of him. He was supposed to feel safe.

But he was terrified.

He was covered in his sheets and while his forehead was glistening with sweat, his body felt like he was about to freeze. Chattering his teeth, he tried to pull the blanket tighter around his body, curling up as far as his wounded and aching body allowed him in a poor attempt to keep what little warmth was left in his body to himself. But the more he tried to maintain it, the more the warmth seemed to be fleeing his body. He was freezing from the inside. And as if he didn’t feel bad enough already a sharp, throbbing pain built up in his head, making him frown heavily with every wave of pain crushing through his skull.

Stiles tilted his head slightly, staring at the alarm button on his nightstand. If he would stretch his arm a little, he would easily be able to press it and call for help… But it had been hard enough to get his father to leave his side and finally get some sleep – Hell, the man deserved sleep after all those nights he had stayed awake, desperately searching and waiting for his son. – and Stiles didn’t want to force that expression of helpless worry on his face again, didn’t want to make his father age even more because of him. He could bite through this. He had to.

Pressing his eyes closed, Stiles tried to control his stuttered breathing, to fill his lungs with air, with warmth. But every breath he took stung as if instead of air he sucked in a thousand tiny needles. “I’m going to be fine…”, he tried to convince himself, but his voice was broken and weak. “I can do this…” He drew in another stuttered breath and tried to will his lips from trembling.

“Your body wants more…” Stiles held his breath as the voice reached his ears. “It’s craving the rush. The burning feeling of pure _power_.”

Stiles knew that voice, feared he would never be able to forget it ever again. But this couldn’t be. His heartbeat sped up until his chest hurt so much Stiles could hardly breathe anymore. Hesitatingly he opened his eyes, ignoring the sharp pain cutting through his forehead, and looked at the room only to find a figure sitting on the end of his bed. “You…”, Stiles breathed, eyes widened in shock. Matt just grinned at him. “ _Missed me_?”

“You’re not real…”, Stiles stuttered as he pulled his legs closer to his body, trying to get as far away as he could from his former torturer. Matt rolled his shoulders and bend his head a little, his eyes never leaving Stiles, staring down at him in threatening red. “Oh you might say so…”, the alpha mused. “But it seems to me you yourself are not so sure…” His grin widened as he reached out to touch Stiles’ legs through the blanket. Biting back a shriek, Stiles jerked back until his head almost hit the headboard and numbing pain immediately spread through his cold body at the too sudden, to extreme movement. Stiles felt dizzy and about to throw up, his head pounding so hard that it felt like it was about to split open. “You’re not real.”, he hissed again, desperate to convince himself, his shaking body and his painfully pounding heart.

And suddenly everything was just too much. The pain thrumming through his head turn so bad he had to press his eyes shut, face distorted in a painful grimace, and not even a second later he felt his stomach giving in under the stress his body was in, throwing up bile as soon as he had stretched enough to lean slightly over the edge of his mattress. His body was shaken by a painful spasm, each jerk forcing him to throw up empty again. A shrieking sound ringing in his ears introduced another wave of almost unbearable headache and Stiles dug the fingers of his healthy hand into the mattress, a hoarse whimper dripping from his lips as he desperately tried to concentrate on the feeling of the fabric below him in order to counter the cold dizziness rushing through his body.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it after all. Not alone. He hated to admit it, but he just was too weak. Whatever Matt had injected him still had a tight grip on his senses, screaming for another dose, screaming for more. And he was in no shape to fight it.

Hot tears clumped his lashes together as he urgently tried to stop his body from shaking, to gain enough control to reach for the alarm button, but before he could remember how to entangle his fingers from the sheet below him, the cold suddenly diminished and instead he felt a gentle warmth wrapping around him, and every breath he took slowly soothed his terrified heart.

He wanted to open his eyes, wanted to examine where the warmth originated from, but another wave of pain crashed against his skull, making him gasp, tears dripping from his lashes onto his cheeks. He thought he could hear dampened words being muttered against his ear, but his body was too exhausted, the pain too strong for him to be able to fully grasp what was going on. Only when the pain suddenly lessened and instead a numb, slightly tingling feeling spread through his body, he stopped shivering and immediately exhaustion took over, making him pass out.

 

When Stiles woke up a couple of hours later, his father was by his side, holding his hand. “You okay?”, he asked while stroking away a sweaty strand of hair from Stiles' forehead. All Stiles was able to muster was a small nod. He was exhausted, but to his surprise noticed that the pain that had dulled his limbs since he woke up in the sickroom was a lot better than before he had fallen asleep.

“I'm sorry for the mess I made...”, Stiles mumbled while his eyes wandered to the end of the mattress where he remembered throwing up. But his father just frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?” Stiles stared at him for a second before pulling together all his strength to roll slightly to the side and look over the edge of the mattress, staring at nothing. The floor was clean and judging from his dad's reaction it hadn't been him. Maybe it had just been in his head? He had seen Matt after all... and that was just impossible. Right?

“Matt is dead, right?”, he heard himself ask in a shaky voice. He kept his gaze locked to the floor as if he feared the answer he would read from his father's lips. The grip of the Sheriff's hand around his tightened slightly. “Yes, son. He's dead. He won't hurt you anymore.”

Stiles let out a stuttered sigh of relief. It had been a hallucination. A dream. A delusion. Nothing more... Matt was dead. Killed. Slowly he lifted his gaze to look at his father and after a few seconds of silence, Stiles spoke up. “What... What about the others? What... what will happen to Derek?” His father averted his gaze for a second, heaving his chest with a sigh. “He's reporting to the police station.” Stiles eyes widened in horror. “But, dad! He just-” “I know, son.”, the Sheriff interrupted him. “I know. He was just defending... _saving_ you. And don't think I'd cry a single tear over that bastard of a werewolf, but a dead body is a dead body. And we need to investigate the details... draft a report...”

Stiles clenched his teeth, feeling his headache returning. “Derek...”, he swallowed nervously. “He won't be sentenced for this, right? I mean it was Matt who did the wrong! He kidnapped and tortured me... None of this is Derek's fault! You can't him for saving me, right?” The Sheriff shifted in his chair and wrapped his second hand around Stiles' now, too, but he stayed silence, his face grim and the way he stared at Stiles' fingers between his own giving away the conflict he fought inside.

After a almost unbearable lengthy silence, he finally lifted his gaze to look Stiles directly in the eyes. “I found the diary at the crime scene... I _took care of it_.” Stiles stared at his dad in disbelief. “What...? Dad!” But the Sheriff waved him off. “I can't let them know Stiles. I just can't.” His face turned bitter as he averted his eyes from Stiles. “If you were to disappear like that again... I... I just couldn't handle it.” Stiles' mouth gaped open, eyebrows drawn low above his widened eyes. “Dad... you can't conceal evidence like that! You're the _Sheriff_ for god's sake!!” The Sheriff just sighed while rubbing both of his hands over his face. “You think I forgot that?”, he groaned before letting his hands fall into his lap as his eyes fixated on his son again. “But some things are just more important.”

Stiles felt like hugging and slapping his dad at the same time. Keeping his son's true identity hidden all these years had been enough of a crime already considering the false statements on his ID and documents (clearly stating: human.), but adding concealment and distortion of evidence to the list just was too much. Especially when it came with putting the blame for what had happened on Derek. “What would you even tell your colleagues when they ask about why Matt was after me?”, Stiles' voice cracked slightly. Was that even his father – well-known and respected Sheriff of Beacon Hills – he was talking to?

His father swallowed visibly, a muscle nervously ticking away in his jaw. Stiles waited for an answer, his eyebrows raised high. The Sheriff's voice was low and slightly hoarse when he finally spoke up, eyes staring down at his hands. “Everyone knows he was after the position of the highest alpha of the region...” Stiles' jaw dropped. His father couldn't probably say what Stiles thought he said. “And you have been Derek's roommate so...”

“No.”, Stiles interrupted, face hot with anger. “Not happening, dad. You leave Derek out of this.” The Sheriff wanted to interrupt him, but Stiles didn't give him the chance to speak. This was important. “Matt was after me because _he knew_... he knew what _I am_. This had nothing to do with Derek.” “Stiles...”, his father tried again and just by the tone of his voice, Stiles' knew exactly what he was about to say. But he wouldn't make this Derek's fault. He _refused_ to.

“I won't let you make _him_ the reason for what happened to me. He has enough on his plate already – he frickin _killed_ a guy! Just to protect me! You won't give him any more reason to feel guilty, you got that, dad?” “He already agreed.” The Sheriff looked straight at him, eyes sad but determined. “He'll give his report this afternoon. Matt had kidnapped you as a person he deemed close in order to go after Derek. Derek went to get you and killed Matt.” Seeing Stiles gasping for air, eyes wide with fury and cheeks red with anger, the Sheriff hastily added “It was self-defense. The others, too, will give the same statement.”

“No, dad. _No_. Even if you don't plan on prosecuting him by making it self-defense... it's still _wrong_. It wasn't his fault Matt was after me. And I will not help you to make him say that.” The Sheriff stared at him, eyes pleading for his son to be reasonable, but he could tell by the thin line that were Stiles' lips that nothing would change his mind on this. “Find. another. way.”

Stiles' father gave up eventually, calling Derek's cell to tell him to not say anything until they had come up with a new story. The alpha hadn't quite understood why they changed their plan, but agreed anyway, offering to inform the others.

 

“Dude, you’re up!” Scott almost came flying at him, slinging his arms so tight around Stiles that the latter one winced in pain. Scott immediately pulled back, looking like a puppy that just peed the floor. “Shit, sorry… totally forgot.” But Stiles waved it off, giving his friend a bright smile. “I thought you wouldn't come before tomorrow...”, he asked a little confused, but Scott just gave him his brightest grin. “You don't really think my mum can rally keep us from coming to visit you, do you?” And just as Stiles' was about to ask who 'us' was, Allison and Lydia stepped up behind Scott and presented him with flowers and a big pack of cookies – his favorite. (Stiles was sure Scott had told them which one to get.) “How are you feeling?”, Allison asked with a tint of worry in her face as she sat down on the edge of his bed next to Scott.

“Actually a lot better already.” To put some more emphasis on his words he flailed his arms around happily, ignoring the pain for the moment. His friends were here after all! Although it would be a lie to say his heart hadn't sunk a bit when he noticed that a certain broody alpha wasn't with the rest of the team. But he knew Derek was supposed to be at the police station today. He would come tomorrow, he convinced himself. He surely would.

“You know, I’ve always thought doctors were really stupid whenever they told me that ‘ _Sleep is the best medicine_!’” Lydia rolled her eyes at his poor imitation of an elderly doctor. “But you know… I think I did them wrong.” He lifted his eyebrows and gave them a bright smile. “Since I came woke up in the morning it feels like a huge part of the pain in my body just melted away. Like I’m healing like 300 times as fast during night – even if I have weird dreams. It’s kinda cool…”

Lydia gave him _the look_ while draping the flowers she brought in a small vase on his nightstand. “I call that a serious case of imagineritis. Or to put it simple: A placebo-effect. A pretty childish one on top of that” She pursed her lips in an affectionate smile. “Don’t get me wrong: It’s... _cute_ , but still…” Allison playfully hit her arm before turning back to Stiles again. “I’m sure the nights help you heal.”

Lydia kept making jokes about Stiles’ incredible night-healing-power, while Allison started feeding Stiles cookies to keep him from arguing back. Scott just laughed at them, stopping Stiles’ flailing arms from hitting Lydia from time to time while trying his best not to ask Stiles about the torture he had experienced, though Stiles could see it in his eyes how much he wanted to.

In the end everyone in the room knew that they had to touch the topic of his kidnap and rescue sooner or later and it was Stiles who brought it up first. “So what exactly happened when the police arrived?”, he asked, looking forcedly calm. For a few seconds the room filled with heavy silence before Lydia cleared her throat and started talking, her eyes trying hard to fixate on the print on Stiles’ T-shirt as to not have to look him directly in the eye. “Well… we tried our best to explain things but… of course they weren’t happy that neither you as Matt’s victim nor Derek as… well… Matt’s _assaulter_ have been present.”

Scott gave Stiles a sad look as if his favorite dog had just died. “I guess your dad has told you already that they’ll come to question you, too, these days?” Stiles nodded, a deep sigh slipping from his lips. “Yeah… guess I won’t get around that after all, hm?” A heavy silence settled around them for a few seconds until Lydia decided she couldn't stand it anymore and changed the topic. “So... Jackson's sorry he couldn't come, but he had to visit home... his grandpa seems to not do so well...”

Stiles gave her a disbelieving look. “You're kidding right?” The redhead just grinned as an answer. “Well, his grandpa's really sick, though...” Allison hit her on the arm and shook her head. “Don't make him sound so mean...” And turning to Stiles with the dimples showing besides her gentle smile, she added “You know even though you guys are always arguing that he still cares, right? If he was in town, he would definitely tag along only to stand beside the door with an all sour face and tell you how stupid you are.” Stiles couldn't help but laugh at that, because – let's face it – that's totally what Jackson would do. “It's like being a jerk is Jackson's way of showing affection.”

The mood lifted greatly after Allison and Lydia bickered about whether Jackson was 'manly and picky when it came to his company' – quote Lydia – or really just a 'marshmallow with monster-coating' – quote Allison and after they had talked about wonderfully random topics like which country had the hugest variety of Kit-Kat-flavors (Stiles was sure it was Japan. They were crazy over there!) or how to differentiate between Aiden and Ethan (Stiles had tuned out when Lydia informed him that one can best distinguish between them by looking at their nipples...) and Allison filled him in on the latest episodes of Homeland he had missed, the girls said their goodbyes and left the two boys for some undisturbed best-friend-time.

With the girls gone, Stiles asked the question that had weighed on his shoulders since he had been saved. “How have you found me?” He scratched on the small blue spot where the drip had been connected to his veins. His breath was steady but his heartbeat ran a mile a minute. “Your howl.”, Scott confirmed his fears. “We heard your howl.”

Clenching his teeth, Stiles swallowed the feeling of sickness back down as Scott continued. “To be frank, I wasn’t sure whether it was you… it sounded…. So  _painful_ . ” The last syllable almost died in Scott’s throat. “But Derek had already taken off and I… I just  _knew_ it had to be you.” After a lengthy silence, he added: “We searched for you for days… and even though I wanted to kick Derek in the balls for how he left you that evening…” Stiles had almost convinced himself that he totally forgot about that. “… he was  _racked_ , I tell you. He totally blamed himself for your disappearance. So… I chose to let him off the hook.” Scott looked at Stiles as if asking for forgiveness or approval, before letting a hasty “For now.” follow with a lopsided smile.

Stiles’ lips quirked up in something close to a chuckle as he nodded at Scott’s words. “It wasn’t his fault.” He knew that Scott understood that by now, but he still felt like he had to say it out loud. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Stiles tried to return to his topic, having a hard time to bring himself to look Scott directly in the eyes. But he needed to know. “Have they seen?” His voice was hardly more than a whisper.

Scott drew in a long breath before answering with a silent nod. “When we found the entrance to the bunker, you were fighting with Matt.” Stiles didn’t remember. He didn’t remember anything about this and the emptiness in his head sent a wave of sharp pain through his forehead. “You were wolfed out and I think you didn’t even notice us at first.” Stiles glanced up at his friend, horror in his eyes. “At first.”, he repeated and Scott nodded slightly, his shoulders hunching a little. “You didn’t really react when we called out to you and when you did take notice of us…” Scott paused a little and Stiles stomach turned, remembering Derek’s bloody and torn clothes. “Did… did I attack you?”, he asked appalled.

But Scott shook his head. “You snarled, but… you didn’t go after any of us.” The way he pronounced those last words made it clear for Stiles that he had gone after someone else instead. And even though he shouldn’t feel bad about his wolf having gone after Matt, he still repelled. “So I was the one to…” The picture of Matt’s lifeless, torn body flashed before his eyes and he had to swallow hard as to not throw up at the thought how his wolf had torn out the alpha’s throat. _He was a monster_.

“No!”, Scott interrupted him in dismay. “I mean… you were about to, but Derek wasn’t lying!” Stiles just looked at him blankly. He knew Scott tried to comfort him, to make him feel less disgusted by his loss of control, but his words made him feel even worse. If he had the choice between ripping the throat from Matt himself or have Derek take that burden for him… he would definitely take it on himself. “Derek was protecting you. Not only from yourself…” Scott’s voice was soft and compassionate. “Matt was _lunatic_! I mean, he was grinning at you like a mad-man, like he discovered the greatest treasure in the world in you, while at the same time made a move to finish you off! Or, well, us… because obviously we wouldn’t let him keep you.” Scott’s fingers giving his shoulder a slight squeeze made Stiles finally look at his friend again. “Derek ripped out Matt’s throat before he could do anything of the sort to you or any of us. You don’t need to feel bad about that. And if Derek hadn’t done it, fuck, you know I would have!”

“I just…”, Stiles started, but the words just died on his tongue. He just didn’t know how to ever make up for the weight he put on Derek’s shoulder. The alpha had opened up to him and not only had he betrayed him by letting his unconscious self in, but he had made Derek kill someone and he had seen the look on Derek’s face, he knew he took it hard. “I know…”, Scott huffed and gave his shoulder another gentle squeeze. Most probably he could see the self-loath through Stiles’ eyes, the dark empty pit he was throwing himself into.

“But you know…” Scott really never gave up trying to cheer him up, did he? “… Derek, Cora and Isaac saw you. And they’re still fine with it.” Stiles’ head shot up. They had really seen him. Wolved out. They had seen his true self (though he wasn’t really sure he could call the _creature_ he was forced to turn into that.). “I assume they freaked out?” Stiles lifted an eyebrow and forced a smile on his lips that made Scott huff a sigh.

“Well.. I can’t really say ‘No’ to that, but I take it it was more a _surprise_ than a _freak out_?”, he suggested. “And hey: They swore to not tell anyone about your secret until you give the okay to do so.” Now that took Stiles a bit by surprise. “They did?” Scott beamed up and nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah… I mean: You might want to prepare yourself for some serious questioning from Cora’s side, it might get a lot more intense than the police…” Stiles snorted. Yeah, he totally could picture that. Cora had been about to rip him to pieces before he went missing after all and this new revelation would certainly not make things any better. But somehow the knot he had felt in his heart just a few minutes ago disappeared.

“What about Isaac and Derek?” And there the knot was again, though a bit smaller than before. Scott stretched his arms over his head, giving him a look Stiles couldn’t quite decipher. “Isaac’s fine with it I guess… I mean: He seems to have some secrets himself he doesn’t want people to know, so I guess he kinda understands… and he seemed really surprised, but not in a bad way. He also wrote me a mail to ask how you are…” Stiles knew that Scott knew exactly that Derek’s reaction was a bigger deal for him than Isaac’s and he hated him a bit for not just coming to the point.

“And for Derek…” Stiles unconsciously held his breath while Scott tilted his head a little. “I dunno. It was a bit weird. He seemed taken aback when he saw you in your wolf-form, but he was losing it and wolfed out just seconds later – and I mean: Completely. Full wolf. You saw him, right?” Stiles remembered the black wolf hunching over him, the warm breath on his face and the ticklish feeling of fur against his fingers. He would never forget. “He ripped out Matt’s throat and…”, Scott hesitated a split second, but decided to keep on talking. “…you were about to jump him for it.”

Stiles’ face must have gone pale with horror, because Scott’s face turned all worried, his hands gesturing in front of him in a poor attempt to calm his friend down. “You didn’t! He growled at you like… _Roooaah_! And then you…” Scott shook his head slightly, a hint of amazement lighting up his eyes. “…you just turned back to being human. And well... you know the rest, I guess.” Stiles needed a few seconds to proceed all the information and even after his brain had wrapped itself around Scott's words he wasn't sure what that feeling dwelling in his chest was.

“Have you talked to your dad about… well…” Scott fumbled with his T-shirt and Stiles turned impatient after he didn’t continue his sentence even after five seconds. “What?!”, he asked rolling his eyes and pushed a cookie in his mouth, munching loudly. “Well, you know what I mean…” Scott looked at him like he was actually expecting Stiles to let him off the hook, but was disappointed when all he got was an exasperated groan that sent a few cookie crumbles flying his way.

“Well... You have to tell them a reason why Matt would do all that to you, right?”, he finally let the cat out of the sack. “I know your dad could cover the real circumstances up somehow, but… this might be a chance to… _come clean_ , you know.”

Stiles stopped chewing for a second and just looked at his best friend. He knew Scott was right and it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it since the earlier discussion with the Sheriff. He knew, his dad would do everything to cover things up, even risk his position as Sheriff by keeping or even manipulating evidence. As bad as what happened to him was, it was also a chance to finally stop hiding who he really was. “But if people know about me, the torture might just be starting…”, he finished his thoughts out loud.

Before he could follow where the trail of thought was about to further lead him, Scott’s hand was on his shoulder, a reassuring weight keeping his mind in place. “I won’t let that happen, Stiles.” His eyes were warm and encouraging, lit up with determination. “None of us will…” And Stiles simply couldn’t help but pull Scott in a bear hug at those words. He really didn’t know how he – being the weirdo he was – managed to find an awesome friend like him.

After awkwardly letting go of each other, Scott kept Stiles updated about the school start. The Sheriff had called the university informing them that his son had come down with the norovirus and would take at least two weeks to fully recover and hence miss the start of lectures again. Now Stiles just hoped his recovery would really progress fast enough for him to return to his classes without at least too visible signs of his torture. He hadn't made his mind up completely yet about whether he really wanted to reveal his true identity to the world, but he surely didn't need to have everyone know about what Matt had done to him, no matter which option he would chose in the end.

  
  


Scott left after the sun had turned a flashing red and left Stiles for some sleep after pulling him in a hug once more. Melissa checked in on him for the third time today and slipped him a small package of curly fries because “patients need to be kept happy. And there was no way in hell she would let him complain about hospital food under her responsibility”. He still had to promise her to not tell his dad before she pressed him a kiss on the forehead and left for her shift at the hospital.

When the Sheriff checked in on him a few hours later, the sky in front of the window dark and cloudy by now, he was relieved to hear he had handed in Matt's diary as evidence. Derek seemed to have been at the station in the afternoon (and Stiles couldn't help but hope that that was the sole reason why he hadn't been with the others to visit him.), but he had stated that he didn't quite know why Matt had done whatever he had done, just as he had promised the Sheriff. His secret was still safe.

“I'll leave it up to you whether you want to go open or not.” Stiles could see the tension in his father's shoulders, knew how hard it was for him to say those words. And it made him love his dad even more. “Whatever you chose to do, you know I'll support you, I have your back.” Stiles dug his fingers in the sleeves of his dad's uniform and forced him to bend over so he could sling his arms around him – screw the pain spreading in his body. He was officially the luckiest guy on earth.

When the phone on his father's belt wouldn't stop ringing, Stiles finally kicked him out. He would fall asleep soon anyway, so there was no reason for his dad to stay around. But he would be lying if he said he didn't feel restless after suddenly being alone in the darkness, nothing but his own heartbeat audible in the thick silence of the room. It felt like hours until he finally was able to fall asleep and only minuted until he opened his eyes again, a sound having caught his attention.

Panic rising in his chest, Stiles stared into the darkness until they made out a shadow standing just a few steps from his bed. He held his breath when two glowing red orbs stared down at him. He knew those eyes, knew the shape of the alpha's body as he slowly approached him.

“You're dead.” Stiles' voice cracked.

“Oh... _am_ I?”, Matt mused as he walked closer until he stopped right in front of Stiles' bed. He tilted his head slightly, a grin spreading on his lips. “You really thought it'd be _that_ easy to kill me? … I feel offended.” Stiles felt his heart speed up, his thoughts tumbling over each other leaving his head in a screaming mess. “You're _dead_.”, he repeated again as if to convince himself. “You're not real.”

Matt sat down on the bed making Stiles flinch. “Oh Stiles...”, the alpha hummed. “Do you even _know_ what's real and what's not?” Stiles opened his mouth to tell him off, to tell him how he very well knew what was real: Scott and Lydia and Derek alive was being real. Matt's body laying sliced open in the corner of the room had been real. Just as real as it had been when Derek and Scott had taken him out of that hell and brought him to Deaton's. His father's hug had been real just as much as the warm treatment of everyone else. And this right now – Matt sitting in front of him, smiling and very much alive – this _wasn't_ real. He wanted to scream it all in his face.

But somehow the words just didn't come out. Somehow uncertainty tugged on the back of his mind, keeping the words locked up in his throat.

“I have to tell you: It's a shame to see you so pathetic, Stiles. There you are this powerful, majestic monster inside, but... _look at you_. You still chose to be a pathetic, weak human instead that can't even tell left from right.” Stiles knew that listening to Matt wouldn't do any good. He was an illusion. A dream. Nothing more. Matt was dead. He was gone. “You are _weak_ , Stiles. You are an _embarrassment_. You are _unworthy_.” And just as Stiles wanted to jump out of bed to make a run for the door, Matt was suddenly there in his personal space, his hands closing around Stiles' neck.

“I won't allow you to waste your potential, Stiles.”, Matt hissed while his grip on Stiles' neck tightened. “You're no human. You're not that _pathetic_.” He couldn't breath. Stiles brought his hands up, trying to push Matt away, trying to peel his fingers from his throat. Every movement hurt, but he didn't care. He had to get away. He couldn't die. Not like this. He could hear the blood rushing through his head, could feel his veins popping out with every breath Matt stopped him from taking.

“Give it up, Stiles. I told you before to just _let it go_. So why? Why don't you let it go for god damn's sake!?” Matt was almost screaming, the words spit down on Stiles with nothing but anger and frustration. “Let it go or die! You think I wouldn't do it?” Stiles felt his eyes roll back into his head. His feet were kicking out and his fingernails scratching frantically at Matt's hand, but the grip didn't loosen. It turned tighter, Matt putting his whole weight on his hands, and Stiles felt like his trachea was crushed. “I'll kill you, Stiles.” Matt's voice rang in his ears. He couldn't breath. “I'll _kill_ you!”He couldn't breath...

“Stiles!” He felt hands on his shoulders and forced his eyes to roll back out of his head. “ _Stiles_!!” He couldn't breath. He just couldn't breath. He felt himself being shaken and started to throw his hands at the person in front of him. He couldn't die. He couldn't die like this. He had to breath. “Stiles! _Breathe_!!” His arms were grabbed again, a sharp shake forcing him to look at the person holding him, realizing it wasn't Matt. “Please, Stiles. You have to breathe!”, Derek screamed at him again pushing his face into Stiles' private space, blocking everything else from his vision.

Stiles heard his lungs squeak, felt his cramped muscles blocking the air from entering his body. Tears filled his eyes and he unconsciously lifted his hands to hold onto Derek's Henley, distraught. “ _Please_ , Stiles...”, Derek begged again, his face panicked and despaired at the sight of Stiles'. “ _Breathe._..” Stiles felt his arms being released, Derek's hands cupping his face instead and pulling him close enough for their foreheads to touch. “See? It's not hard to do. You can do it. Just breath with me, okay? In... and out...” Derek's breath rushed over Stiles' face as he wiped away the trails of tears on Stiles' cheek with his thumbs. “Breathe with me, Stiles...”

And with the next breath Derek took, Stiles finally managed to draw in air. His lungs ached as if they had forgotten what they had been made for and had to adjust to housing air again first. It felt like thousand small needles pricking his lungs and Stiles' felt his eyes closing at the pain, tears dripping from his lashes again. It hurt so much he wished he could just stop breathing, but Derek's words kept him going. “You're doing fine. Just like that. In... and out... good.” Stiles' breath slowly steadied, the muscles in his neck relaxing again while Derek's fingers stroked gently along his chin, over his cheeks and over the spot behind his ears.

When Stiles had calmed down enough to stop solely concentration on sucking in air, he felt his body shaking at the memory of Matt. At the too realistic feeling of his hands around his neck. And as if Derek had read his thoughts, he slung his right hand around Stiles' neck and pulled him in a careful hug. “It was a dream. Nothing more. Just a dream...”, he whispered in Stiles ears as the younger one's body was shaken by sobs. “You're home. You're safe. And we won't let anyone hurt you again.”

Stiles clung to the werewolf as if his life depended on it and Derek didn't seem to mind all the snot and tears wetting his Henley. Instead he rubbed an assuring hand over Stiles' back in small circles while his other hand stayed at the back of his head, his thumb slowly massaging Stiles' temple.

 

When Stiles woke up he was alone in his room, the morning sun shining through the window onto his blanket. He pushed himself up on the bed and pulled in his legs, grimacing a bit as dull pain spread through his side while leaning his forehead against his knees. He felt tired and worn out. And the longer he played through the last night, the less he felt like Derek had really been there. Why would he have been in his room in the middle of the night? And how would he have come in anyway? It just didn't make sense. And still Stiles found himself pressing his face into his sheets a few minutes later in the vast hope of tracing the alpha's smell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has achieved over 500 subscriptions and 15.000 Hits!!! THANK YOU SO SO MUCH!!!!  
> To give out some of my gratitude to my faithful readers, I'm working on some Art Trading Cards to give away as a Thank-you-gift! If you're interested please check the respective artwork (http://archiveofourown.org/works/1303666/chapters/2707483 , currently only WIP, but the finished cards will be added soon!) and leave a comment stating you want to take part in the tombola.  
> After the next update of Under the Surface I will chose up to 5 people by lottery and contact you so I can send out the ATCs.
> 
> Hope you like the idea and stay tuned for the next chapter :3


	17. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oookay....I feel more than just bad for taking so long for this chapter. I ran into a serious case of writers block... and the beginning of the rainy season didn't really help to boost my creativity. BUT here it is: The next chapter. As I have been writing bits and pieces of this chapter over and over again, I'm not very confident, to be frank, but I hope you still enjoy it.
> 
> And I can assure you that I have already written a great part of the next chapter, too, so the next update shouldn't take as long as this time.  
> (Also the story stretches a little further than I first estimated so there is still a good 3 chapters to go based on current planning.)
> 
> Please enjoy!  
> And comments keep me happy & motivated, so please leave lots and lots of them :3

After Melissa checked in on him first thing in the morning, making sure he’d take the medication she gave him, Stiles had his first real breakfast since being rescued. With his side still hurting whenever he turned or twisted even the slightest bit and his left hand being pretty much unusable due to the plaster cast that wrapped hardly around his fingers and wrist it was nothing like the Sunday morning breakfast he was used to with his dad, but scolding his dad when he put down a cheese-dripping sandwich on his plate felt homey enough to spread a happy grin over his face.

“How is the investigation going?”, Stiles asked, a few breadcrumbs falling from his lips. He couldn't help but be concerned about how Derek's statement had went and his father seemed to notice his uneasiness as he put down his coffee mug and reached out to squeeze Stiles' upper arm slightly. “Don't you worry about it. We're figuring out a way so no one of your friends will be in trouble for rescuing you.”

Stiles sighed slightly. He believed his dad tried all he could to make sure his friends came out clean, but Derek wasn't the most loved person around town and to be frank Stiles wasn't so sure whether someone who had a bad history with the dark werewolf wouldn't make use of the situation to get him locked away.

“What did he say, when you questioned him?”, Stiles tried again, knowing his father understood exactly whom he was talking about even without saying it out loud. Looking at his dad's relaxed face, Derek surely hadn't stated the truth. If the Sheriff would have known about the others having him seen in his true form, he surely would be packing up their house by now and not sit in the chair next to him comfortably, drinking his coffee.

“In fact he didn't say much at all, just stated the facts: That Matt took you for a reason unknown to him, that he and your friends tracked you down and that he killed Matt when he was about to attack him.” Stiles swallowed slightly. Sooner or later he would have to fill his dad in, tell him that it was not a fact that Derek didn't know why Matt took him, that in fact he knows exactly why. And that at least as far as Scott had told him it hadn't been as much of self-defense but more an act of blind and utter rage.

“When asked about Matt's motives he refused to make any assumptions and explicitly asked to get that information from you.”, his dad added, his face getting a little softer. “He told me that he wants you to know that any decision you make, he will fully support.As will the others.”

Stiles looked at his father in silence for a few seconds, unsure what that jittery mess of emotions inside of him was. “You have made some great friends, Stiles.”, his father said, squeezing his lower arm gently. “And I'm sorry I judged them too easily as something that wouldn't be good for you.” After a deep sigh, he added. “As I am for suggesting to make it sound like Derek was the one to put you in that situation. ”

“Thanks, dad.” Stiles smiled at his old man and pulled him into an only slightly awkward hug. He felt utterly happy to have his dad realize that he could have great friends ins werewolves that were not Scott, too. That his friends were good for him. _Derek_ was good for him. At the same time it made his stomach curl slightly and before he quite knew why his mouth started blabbering. “I'm sorry, too, dad.”

Slightly confused the Sheriff pulled back, his eyes searching Stiles' face for a hint of information. “I didn't want to lie to you – well.. it's not exactly like I lied. I just didn't tell you. So practically...” “Stiles.”, the Sheriff interrupted him, making Stiles focus again. “They know.”, he blurted out.

His father blinked at him a few times. “ _Who_ knows _what_?” Stiles took a long, deep breath before he answered. “Scott found out about my true form. Weeks ago. And Derek and the others seem to have found out when rescuing me, too.”

The Sheriff's mouth fell open, his eyes wide and face paler than any person should look. “But it's fine!”, Stiles immediately tried to calm him down, hands reaching for his dad's, trying to give him some support. “As you said: They are great friends. They... they have my back and stay by my side, even though I am... I...” He hesitated a second, not sure how to phrase it, too many of Matt's descriptions in his head.

But before he could settle on one word, his father shook his head, pulling him into a hug again. “I'm happy you found friends who see how precious you are.” And even though he didn't say it out loud, Stiles could feel the ' _You are not one of any of whatever bad words and names you think about right now_ ' that was implied and it made him scrunch his nose trying to suppress the tears threatening to dwell in his eyes.

They stayed like this for a long while, just breathing in each other. Stiles was the one to pull away first, determination in his eyes. “I think I want to come clean.”, he said. The sheriff shook his head, obviously preparing his speech to talk him out of this idea, but Stiles was decided. “I have been hiding for my whole life, dad. And I don't want to hide anymore. And to be frank...” He looked his dad directly in the eyes. “I don't think I need to anymore.”

“I'm not alone in this anymore, I have friends who are willing to stand up for me. And it feels like the right thing to do. For me. And for any other half-blood that might be out there, struggling on his own.” His dad stared at him for a long time, before his shoulders slumped, a deep sigh leaving him. “You know I'm not happy about this, but...” Another deep sigh. “If this is really what you want to do – and if your friends are really having your back – I'll support you. I will.”

They agreed to have one of the deputies to come over the next day to officially take Stiles' statement, building up a half-truth about Stiles only having found out about his ability to shift after his encounter with Matt. Stiles wanted to finally live in the open as what he truly was, but he didn't want his father to take the fall for him. They wouldn't come out unbruised, but Stiles' really hoped they could minimize the damage. So after his father left for work, he started to work out the story's details, running tomorrow's statement through in his hand over and over again until he almost believed his story himself.

  
  


“Hey looser”, a familiar voice interrupted the wonderful afterglow of the a little too heavy breakfast. Cora’s smiling face showed in the half-opened door, Isaac’s blonde locks bopping in the background as he shoved her through the door. “Scott told us you were up”, the blonde commented their entrance with a nod in the Sheriff’s direction. “So we wanted to check in on you.” To Stiles surprise more people streamed into the room and for the time it took for the twins, Danny and Jackson – shoved by a tightly grinning Lydia – to flock around his bedside, his heart sped up with hope, only to feel be overwhelmed with disappointment when finding a certain brooding werewolf missing.

Stiles had tried hard to convince himself that maybe Derek just had a more important things to handle (having taken a life surely needed more than just a few hours of clean up), but a small voice in the back of his head that sounded creepily similar to Matt kept the uncertainty alive that maybe the alpha hadn’t forgiven his betrayal after all. That maybe all the warmth and gentleness he had dreamed about the night before was just in his head and the only thing he could expect when meeting Derek again was cold, condemning eyes and an unforgiving growl.

“How do you hold up?”, Danny asked, his eyes scanning Stiles' body for visible damage. Stiles leaned back into his pillow while trying to find a position his side wouldn’t hurt so much, face slightly distorted with pain. “Good, I guess.” He gave the wolves and Lydia a lopsided smile that didn’t seem to convince most of them. He was thinking about telling them about the nightmares, about how Matt was still haunting him, thought about asking about Derek and the possibility of him having really been there to comfort him the night before, but instead he chose to go with a simple “I mean… I was able to get some sleep and have something to eat without throwing up or anything – that’s something, right?”

Cora gave him a slap on the shoulder that made him wince a little, which in return got her a slap on the back of her head by both of the twins. “Learn to control yourself”, Aiden hissed in her direction before smiling at Stiles. “It’s good to see you’re at least good enough to joke around again.”

Stiles made a gesture with his hands that to him was obviously stating “I’m awesome and the same goes for my jokes, but you know that, and there’s no way anything could stop this pile of awesomeness” but judged by the looks of everyone around him, it most likely was nothing but a flailing of limbs and hands to everyone else. And to make things worse the movement made Stiles’ side ache again.

To Stiles surprise it was Jackson who grabbed his hands and brought them carefully down to rest by his sides before shoving a pillow under his back – of course not without a facial expression as if he just ate a whole lemon and an overly dramatic huff. “Stop going all octopus on us, man.”, he hissed and pressed his fingers against his temples to make it official once more how annoyed he was of Stiles all the time. “It makes me want to punch you in the face.” But Stiles couldn’t help but smile stupidly at him, as did Lydia while the other werewolves were at least courteous enough to bit down their laughter, because no matter how hard Jackson tried to hide it: he cared. He frickin cared about Stiles the flailwolf Stilinski! Stiles grinned so hard, it felt like his face was about to split apart.

Danny let a small laugh bubble up his throat while he pulled something out from the backpack he had rested between his feet. “I figured you’d be bored sitting around all day long, so…” He grinned wide while pushing a bright red Game-boy onto Stiles' lap followed by a couple of games. “Hope this helps a little.” Stiles would have jumped the damn guy if his body wasn’t so impaired right now. “You are my _god_ , you know that?”, he laughed while his hands were already busy expecting the goods.

It had been years since he had last played on his own Game-boy and just looking at the slightly worn out little plastic housing made him all excited. Yes, this would definitely help him get over the fact that he was stuck to the frickin bed. (He had tried to get up this morning only to be met with an almost furious Melissa storming through the door and pushing him back down.)

And it might even help him get his brain busy with something other than either freaking out about his hallucinations and the question what long-term effects the drugs in his system might have on him or continuously thinking about Derek and how he might or might not have forgiven him or might or might not have been there the other night. Yes, distraction was definitely what he needed. And good old-school Gameboy-distraction was the best distraction there was in this world.

  
  


Stiles' turned over in his bed, his side stinging and his thoughts running a mile a minute. He couldn't sleep. Maybe the thought of the interrogation the next day was keeping him awake, maybe it was that he was still worrying about why everyone but Derek had been coming to visit him. He didn't know. But whenever he closed his eyes, his body just refused to fall asleep.

“Don't make it so hard on yourself...” Stiles froze when he heard the words. He was going crazy. He was going crazy after all. Slowly he turned his head to glance over his shoulder into the darkness. “You think I won't find you when you're awake?” Matt stepped out of the shadows, a big grin on his face as he pulled Stiles' office chair in the middle of the room and sat down, eyes never leaving Stiles'.

“You know... I can find you wherever you are. I'm a part of you.” Stiles felt his heartbeat speed up, throat going dry. “What do you want?”, he asked in a voice so low it was hardly more than a whisper. Matt just grinned, spinning in the chair. “I think you know quite well what I want, Stiles. And you know what else? I _always_ get what I set my eyes on.”

The alpha watched him as Stiles pushed himself into a sitting situation, his back flush against the wall behind him now. He slowly crept closer to the bed, his eyes taking in the by now shaking figure of the boy in front of him with a scorning snort. “I understand you want to come clean?” He slowly shook his head. “A bad idea, I tell you. They will kill you. You know that.”

Stiles swallowed around the knot forming in his throat. “I'm not alone in this.”, he said, his voice weaker than he wanted it to be. “I have friends who showed me that not everyone will turn on me.” Matt threw his head back and laughed so loud it almost rang in Stiles' ears. “You really think they are still your friends?” Matt's tone was mocking. “Don't you see they're just acting? How could they be friends with an abnormality like you?”

Lies. Stiles knew it was lies. But still a part of his chest turned cold and numb at the werewolf's words. “The moment you put yourself out there, they will cast you out. You know that. No one would damage their image for a _thing_ like you.” Stiles wanted to talk back, throw Matt one of his sarcastic comebacks he was known for. But his jaw was clenched and his lips pressed together so tightly not one syllable was able to break through. “You know that if you tell people what you are” Matt moved his chair so close to the bed that his knees hit the edge of his mattress as he leaned even closer. “there is bound to be someone to look for your power again. You want that?”

Stiles pressed his eyes closed, his breath painful and fast-paced. Matt wasn't real. This wasn't real. “Maybe you secretly enjoyed it? You are actively looking for someone like me again?” Stiles heard the blood rush through his head, a throbbing pain spreading over his temples. “But I can't let that happen, Stiles.” The mattress dipped and Stiles huddled further against the wall, pulling his legs up close to his body in order to get away from Matt as far as he could. “You are _mine_ , Stiles. You're _power_ is _mine_.”

Fingers curled around his ankle and Stiles' let out a short cry, starting to kick and swing his arms around. “No!”, he shrieked, heart heavy with fear. His rips spread heated pain through his body and his heart was pumping the blood though his veins so speedily it felt like they were about explode. “No! Leave me alone! Leave me.... No!” His voice cracked, his throat burning with every scream.

“Stiles!” His hands were caught by strong hands and held in place, leaving Stiles no other option but to kick at the werewolf in front of him. “Stiles! Look at me!!”, the man in front of him shouted at him and something about the sound of his voice made Stiles' movements slow down. Blinking the tears in his eyes away, Stiles looked at the person in front of him. It wasn't Matt.

Derek held his arms firm in the air, staring at him with a distressed expression. “Stiles...” His voice was worried but warm. “Calm down. Everything's fine. No one will hurt you.” And just looking into his green eyes, feeling his warm fingers on his skin was enough to break the dam. Stiles' lower lips started quivering and heavy hot tears found their way down his cheeks.

If his body wasn't still too busy shaking with fear, Stiles might have been embarrassed about crying in Derek's arms like that. (Again.) He wanted to be strong, wanted to no longer be the victim. But with Matt still haunting him, maybe he really wasn't ready to come clean with the world yet. Maybe he really wasn't strong enough.

“What happened?”, Derek asked, his arms closing around Stiles' quivering body, one hand finding the small of his back, drawing soothing circles. Stiles just shook his head. He couldn't tell Derek that he saw Matt. He would think he's crazy. Anyone would. Hell, even Stiles thought he finally lost it now. Derek let out a small sigh, but then nodded, accepting Stiles' silence without pushing further.

“I...”, Stiles muttered into the warmth of Derek's T-shirt. “I'll give my statement tomorrow.” Derek's hand stilled for a second before continuing rubbing circles on Stiles' lower back. Stiles waited for him to say something, to give him advice or tell him not to say anything at all. But Derek stayed silent, just his head leaning slightly to the side so his stubbled jaw rested against the younger one's temple.

“I think I'll tell them the truth.”, it finally bubbled out of him. “About me. About....”, he hesitated, holding his breath for a split second before continuing almost in a whisper. “...About what I am.” This time Derek's hand didn't still. The alpha didn't even flinch at his revelation, which almost made Stiles' a little disappointed. The warm hand kept moving over his back, the other arm slung tightly around his shoulders, his stubble scraping over Stiles' skin that made Stiles for a second think the alpha might actually smile. (Though it didn't make much sense.)

“Okay.” was all Derek said to this, voice deep but warm, and Stiles didn't really know how to react. A part of him wanted to pull away from the werewolf's warm body to get a better look at Derek's expression, to challenge him to actually tell him what he thought about Stiles' plan. But at the same time he feared that what he would find in the older one's expression would be anger, rigor or worst of all: disappointment. So all he did was holding on to the other one's T-shirt, snuggling a little deeper into Derek's strong arms and taking in a long breath.

“Go to sleep.”, Derek grumbled, his arms tightening around Stiles' shoulders for a second as if to assure him that he'll be close by, that there was nothing to fear. And Stiles was surprised how much the alpha's closeness relaxed him once again. Within what felt like seconds, he was already drifting off into exhausted sleep, his head nuzzling into Derek's neck.

 

When Stiles woke up the next day, there was no trace of Derek. Once again he wondered whether the alpha actually had been here. It felt real. But at the same time he had seen Matt, too. And there was no way he could have been real. He had seen Matt's tattered body, the blood spreading out on the floor in an ugly puddle. He couldn't be alive. But still... .

“Why you?” Stiles jumped a little at the sudden voice. Deputy Parrish looked at him with an expression Stiles wasn't sure how to read. Annoyance? Pity? “Why did Matt kidnap you? What did he want?”, the deputy asked again and Stiles nodded slightly, more out of reflex than meant as any sort of answer.

He could do this. He had practiced this over and over in his head the day before.

“Matt was a creep.”, he said in a low voice, staring down at his fingers playing with the corner of the cast wrapping around his left hand. “He started following me around, suddenly showing up behind me, saying weird stuff.” “When did this behavior start?”, the deputy asked diligently and Stiles bit the inside of his cheeks. “A few weeks into lectures.” “So a few weeks after you moved in with Derek Hale.”, the deputy guided his answer, but Stiles shook his head. “It had nothing to do with Derek.” He wanted this statement to be official. “That Matt went after me was not Derek's fault. Matt was crazy and obsessed with the thought that I....”

Stiles needed to take a controlled breath to get his fingers to relax where they had gripped the cast so hard it creaked under the pressure. “Matt went after me because he thought I was a half-blood. He was crazy about the idea to 'take my power', to 'use me' so he would be invincible.” The deputy looked at him with tightened eyebrows, his lips pulled down in a stern expression. “A half-blood?”, he asked again and Stiles just nodded.

“When I moved to my own room...”, Stiles started again, trying to not linger on the question about his true identity. He would come to this later. If he gave his identity right from the start, they would get stuck on that topic and that topic alone. He couldn't risk that. But to his surprise, deputy Parrish targeted a totally different topic. “Why did you move out of the room you shared with Hale?”

Stiles looked at the man for maybe the first time since he had sat down next to his bed. “Why...” He caught himself before answering thoughtlessly. “My father doesn't like Derek very much. He didn't want me to share a room with a 'troublesome alpha', as he liked to put it. There never had been any problems and we got along well, so I didn't really want to, but gave in to my dad after all.” He surely wouldn't tell him about Derek more or less throwing him out. Especially, since he himself hadn't figured out quite what exactly had driven Derek to push him out of his life like that. “I don't see what this has to do with anything, though.”

Deputy Parrish watched him with alerted eyes, seemingly study ever twitch of Stiles' muscles carefully. He wrote something down on his notebook in front of him before nodding for Stiles to go on with his statement. Stiles cleared his throat and tried to remember where he had let off. “When I moved to my own room, Matt lured around more often and the night after our new year party he caught me alone in the corridor. I told him to back off, as always, but he suddenly injected me with some kind of drug and when I came to I was in the bunker, bound to the wall.”

He told deputy Parrish the whole story. All that he remembered in as much detail as he could endure. About Matt's wicked grin, about his notebook and his 'family tradition' of turning half-bloods into weapons. Parrish nodded while taking notes, obviously having familiarized himself with the small book.

Stiles' breath was hitching when he talked about the hours he spent under the influence of the aphrodisiac, about the repeated beating he suffered, about the stinging pain that spread from his broken bones, infected his whole body. The deputy got paler by every minute Stiles described the pain, the embarrassment, the blind fear, the helplessness in greater detail than even he himself could endure. Stiles knew if he let the deputy in on all the details he rather wanted to forget. He felt his chest clenching, his head hurting and his eyes stinging with tears, but he got better chance to have him on his side, to make him understand that Matt deserved to, no, _needed_ to die, if he just told everything. So he did. He told every dirty, painful little detail right until his shift.

“What?” Deputy Parrish's head shot up with his eyes slightly widened. Stiles took a deep breath and continued. “I turned. I could feel the teeth spreading from my jaw, the muscles in my shoulders shifting.... and I don't know anything from then on until the others were there.” He looked straight at the frowning man in front of him. The deputy had stopped writing and now just let the tip of his pen bounce off the paper in a high-paced rhythm while studying Stiles' face. “So you are indeed a...”

“Half-blood.”, Stiles finished. “Yes. Looks like it.” Stiles tried his best to sound devastated, to sound freaked out. It didn't need much acting after having pulled out all the painful memories that he had tried to seal away somewhere far far in the back of his mind. “And you didn't know?”, the deputy asked, his eyes searching Stiles' face, the frown on his own deepening.

Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “No.” The deputy squinted his eyes and leaned slightly towards him. “No you didn't know, or no you in fact did?” “No in fact I did.”, Stiles answered truthfully. “I knew before that shift. I felt the wolf under my skin even before that, since I've joined school. I assume having so many alpha's around wakened that side of me.” “And no one knew?” Stiles nodded. “Not even your father?”

Stiles lifted his gaze and looked at deputy Parrish firmly. “If my father had known about my true form, he would have taken me off campus immediately. He would not only have opposed me living with a werewolf, but most likely sent me as far away from the whole species as he could. I couldn't risk that.” The deputy stayed silent for a while, studying Stiles' tensed figure, before nodding and writing something in his notebook.

“I think that's good enough for now. I'm sure you need some rest.” The deputy got up and pushed his notebook into his chest-pocket. “I hope you'll get better soon.” He excused himself with a nod and pulled the door close behind him. Stiles waited until the footsteps in the hallway in front of his room faded before he let out a stuttered breath.

He hoped he did the right thing. He really did.


	18. Going Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skipped a whole weeks worth of going to the gym to get this chapter done as soon as possible, so I hope you guys find it was worth for me getting fatter and fatter by the day *haha*  
> Still not the answers most of you guys wanted (we're getting there! Like super soon! Promise!), but I thought a little 'real' Sterek-action might make up for the long absence until the last chapter... .
> 
> Let me know how you liked it! (´w`*)

After getting thoroughly inspected by Melissa, Stiles was finally allowed to go home the next day. Not the dorms, obviously, but at least his old room at his father’s house. Scott had skipped his afternoon classes to bring over a few of his things and stay with him so the Sheriff could return to work with a slightly unhappy look on his face. Stiles understood that after what had happened his dad felt like guarding him personally 24/7, but he as the Sheriff of Beacon Hills he had more important things to do than stay at home and get scolded for all the unhealthy habits he had picked up during the short time Stiles had been away. And Stiles was an adult, he could cope on his own. He had to. And maybe it was good to have to get through things without his dad backing him up, even if it meant dealing with unpleasant memories and panic attacks dwelling at the back of his throat on his own.

Scott stayed until after dawn, making popcorn and sitting through both Bill and Ted movies with Stiles. (They had done so several times already and were able to speak along the whole thing, but still almost toppled over when their favorite scenes came up.) “You know I could sleep over?”, Scott asked while hesitatingly slipping into his jacket. Stiles gave him a one-sided shrug. “You have classes tomorrow starting nine and all. I’ll be fine. Really.” Scott put on his puppy face and Stiles just knew that he would try to talk him into not being alone, but “I have to deal with this whole thing on my own. And the sooner I start to do so, the better.”

 

His dad called to make sure Stiles was alright and to let him know he'll try to be home by ten. “Don't worry, dad.”, Stiles smiled as he readjusted his position in the bed. “I'll be sleeping soon anyway, so no need to hurry. Really.” And it was true. He was able to get up and go to the bathroom all on his own by now and even though the pain was still too much to handle without painkillers or werewolves to drain him around, he felt good enough. At least physically.

The fact that almost every dream he had was infiltrated by Matt, as seemed his wake mind to be given the creepy voice he heard every now and then in his head, still made him panic from time to time. But he had gotten used to willing down the attack to some extend. He could handle it, as long as he remembered what was real and what wasn't. He could make him go away for those moments, so, yes. He would be fine on his own.

Or so he told himself. Because not even an hour later he woke up with a choked cry, clinging to his sheets as if his ability to breath was depending on it. His heart beat painfully against his broken ribs, his hair clinging to his sweaty forehead uncomfortably. _Breathe_ , he tried to tell himself. He knew how to do this. He could breath. In and out. It was easy. At least it used to be. But his body seemed to not remember, as his throat kept being shut, his vision turning blurry.

“Calm down...”, he heard a familiar voice say and it was weird how he wasn't even surprised that Derek would be in his room, stepping out of the shadows and into the dim light shining through the window. “You can do this. Calm down and breath.”

His voice was low and even, but his expression seemed troubled, eyebrows drawn together and lips pressed into a sharp, thin line, as he shook of his shoes and climbed onto the bed, pulling Stiles up in the motion. He brought Stiles hand up to his chest and looked him deep in the eyes. “Feel this?”, he asked and took a deep breath. “Just like this. In. And out.” And Stiles felt his body relax slightly, the steady movement under his hand seemingly unlocking his throat, allowing him to draw in a painful breath. “Good boy. Just like that. You're doing great.”

Stiles felt his eyes sting with tears at the scratching sensation in his throat and Derek must have noticed as he brought up his free hand to rest it on Stiles' cheek, and if the younger one leaned into the touch almost naturally it must have only been because of the tingling feeling the pain-draining left under his skin.

After a few minutes Stiles breathing had calmed down enough that his body relaxed fully in Derek's embrace. The alpha sat on Stiles' bed, his back against the head board and his arms slung around Stiles' torso. One of his hands spread wide over Stiles chest, making sure the younger one's breathing moved along with his own. It felt warm and natural, the way Stiles fit into Derek's arms, so comfortable that before really noticing Stiles drifted back to sleep and only woke up when the mattress bounced slightly as Derek pushed himself off carefully.

Stiles' was blinking sleepily at the dark silhouette in front of him,but his mind was awake quick enough to notice that the alpha was about to simply disappear. Derek would leave without a word again. As every night since his rescue. But this time Stiles had woken up, saw the older one run a hand through his hair, his back looking troubled and strangely lonely as he moved to leave through the window.

“Please...”, Stiles said, his voice barely more than a broken whisper as his fingers dug into the soft fabric “Stay.” Normally he would be embarrassed, trying to cover his desperate neediness with something like “You get it? 'Stay'. Dog-joke. Because... well, you're a wolf. ” and a snorting laugh. But this wasn't normal. Nothing about this was normal anymore. And he wanted Derek to stay. _Needed_ him to. So he waited nervously for an answer, holding his breath while his widened eyes looked up at Derek's tensed back. “Please”, he begged again after the only reaction from Derek was the ticking in his jaw that Stiles could make out even in the dim moonlight lighting up his room.

After another almost endless 10 seconds of silence, Derek let out a huff, his left hand reaching behind, fingers closing around Stiles' wrist. He didn't turn, didn't look at Stiles as he peeled the younger one's fingers from his T-shirt. “Please don't go!” Stiles shrieked almost panicky, his voice cracking on the last syllable. Derek was about to leave. He was real, was here in Stiles room, but he was leaving. Maybe he had sleepwalked again. Had needed someone to calm him down. But when he was awake he was so disgusted with Stiles that he couldn't even look at him. He hated him. He still did. He always would.

Stiles felt his throat close, his heartbeat getting faster and his eyes burning under the emotions that ran through him. He wanted to throw himself at Derek, hold onto him and only let go if the werewolf would peel him off, shredded to pieces. But at the same time he wanted to pull back, curl up and just die. Wanted Derek to leave and never come back. He had made use of the alpha's weakness for too long already. And he knew it was time to let go of the tingling feeling of hope that sometimes prickled through his veins. It was time to let go of the happy memories of being room mates, of the colorful phantasies of being more than just that, _of Derek_.

He felt his hand shaking, his body suddenly feeling heavy and numb, his arm only still up in the air because of Derek's warm fingers still holding on. Stiles thought he heard Matt laughing at him, but Derek held on. Stiles curled his fingers slightly, staring at Derek's fingers as if by doing so he could imprint the sensation, the warmth into his wrist before finally letting go of all the things he couldn't have. But just as he was about to pull his hand from the alpha's lose grip, Derek turned around.

It was a sudden movement that almost made Stiles jump in surprise and while he was still blinking at him in confusion, Derek grid his teeth and took a step closer. “Move in.”, he grunted, his brows furrowing and his mouth in a tight line. Stiles must have looked disheartened at the gruff in the older one's voice, as Derek let out a small sigh, his expression softening as he added in a low mutter ”If your dad comes home and freaks out it's on you.” His fingers tightened around Stiles wrist, thumb rubbing along the warm skin. It took Stiles a while to notice that Derek was shifting from one foot to the other, obviously waiting for him to do something.

Hastily he pulled back the sheets, hissing at the pain that ran up his arm. He had forgotten about his still broken fingers and fuck it hurt, but now he had more important things on his mind. His head shot up again to look at Derek, a slightly forced and heavily crooked smile plastered over his face. “Hop in.”, he stuttered breathlessly, why he didn't quite know. Derek stared at him for a fleeting moment before shaking his head slightly and slipping in. “No flailing.”, he mumbled and Stiles was about to feel his heart sink when Derek reached out for his damaged hand and almost immediately his pain ran in thick black lines up the alpha's arm. He wasn't annoyed or angry, just concerned.

“Maybe a little _too_ concerned? Or do you really think he would stay with you for any other reason than simple _pity_?”, Matt's snort rang in Stiles' ears, but he blocked him out. Derek was here. He stayed. For Stiles. He was holding onto his hands, warm and caring. He looked at Stiles with that expression Stiles' fell in love with the first time he noticed it during their time of living together, where his eyebrows are hanging low above those beautiful green eyes, all grumpy and broody, but his jaw is soft and relaxed and his lips are pulled in that hint of a smile that makes Stiles' heart chest flutter.

“Go back to sleep”, Derek mutters, his right hand letting go of Stiles' cast-covered hand while his other pulls Stiles down with him until they lay next to each other, his other hand still firmly clutched around Stiles' good one. An awkward silence settles for a while, Stiles feeling Derek's heartbeat next to his. Once again he wonders whether all alphas (born ones?) are radiating that much body heat or whether it's just Derek.

Derek shuffles his body and for a second Stiles fears he got annoyed by him clacking his teeth (stupid habit! But somehow silence makes him do weird things like that.), but his heart lightens when he notices that the alpha is not moving away from him, but actually closer to him. Derek turns until he lies on his side, eyes flicking between Stiles' eyes as he takes in his features. “Stop thinking already and sleep.”, he huffs, slinging his arm around Stiles' hip carefully as to not touch any of his broken ribs. Stiles felt so confusedly happy, he almost forgot how to breath.

Stiles tried to sleep. He really did. Hard. Sleeping surrounded by all that was Derek ( _awake Derek_!) was something he wanted to do for the rest of his life if it was his call. But his heart just wouldn't shut up and Derek just smelled _so good_. He had turned to his side, too, his face so close to Derek's that he could literally feel the older one's warm breath on his face. It took all of Stiles' resistance to will his body still in the others embrace, to not roll his hips, searching for friction against what was pretty surely an almost full-blown erection right now. He just hoped Derek couldn't smell him. Or, well... was nice enough to pretend not to. (Stupid werewolf-senses.)

Derek's hand that rested on Stiles' back moved in small, soothing circles and Stiles was sure Derek meant well, trying to get him to relax enough to drift off to well-deserved sleep, but the touch was making his skin tingle. He shut his eyes tightly, feeling the warm sensation under his lids. He needed to will it down. Derek had seen him shifted before, yes, but that didn't mean... “You know what he would think about seeing you as the abomination you are.” He didn't want to agree with Matt's voice echoing in his head, but he did fear that Derek would be gone as soon as he saw him. Wolfed out.

Stiles had spent hours watching his shifted form in the mirror, knew the small brown sprinkles in his yellow-glowing eyes, the way his fangs were too short to be frightening, but too big for people to feel comfortable with. He looked half-baked compared to a full-blooded werewolf. Different. Weird. Abnormal. And if Derek looked at him with eyes that told him exactly that about himself... Stiles didn't have faith he would ever get over it. He couldn't change. Not in front of Derek. Not before they talked about what this was. What _they_ were.

“Stiles?”, he heard Derek ask silently and he suddenly noticed that the hand on his back had stopped moving. “I'm sorry.” The reply was slightly choked, Stiles pressing his eyes shut harder, trying to concentrate, to will down the shift. But the feeling just kept growing, dull pain starting to spread out his jaw. _No, no, no, not his fangs, too_. ”I'm sorry... just... just a second...I'm fine... just...” He buried his face into the bit of linen between his and the alpha's body. He needed to calm down.

“Stiles...”, Derek tried again, bringing both of his hands up to cup Stiles' face, pulling it up. Hesitantly the younger one opened his eyes, feeling the shift pushing through the second his eyes met Derek's. “I'm sorry... I... I'm hideous, I know. I mean, my eyes are not even purely yellow. And the glowing-thing really does not help my paleness.” He let out a choked laugh. “Can you believe I even have freckles on my eyes? How lame is that?!” He rambled. He always did when he felt about to cry from complete insecurity. His mouth tried desperately to distract his brain. It normally worked.

“You guys have all those super-senses and awesome red-eyes and, really, those sideburns? They come in great! Well, I guess I'd look super weird with sideburns, but still...” Stiles stared at Derek's collarbone, trying desperately to not meet his eyes, but he could feel the other still stared down at him. He had turned silent, not even tried to interrupt Stiles' ramble which simply couldn't be good. Maybe he was freaking out? Maybe he was disgusted with the pure sight of such a wimpy excuse of a werewolf? Stiles didn't really want to know, but he couldn't stop himself from meeting Derek's eyes in the end, desperately searching for even the slightest hint of acceptance.

And the moment his eyes met Derek's, his ramble stopped.

Derek's eyes had turned a bright red, his lips were slightly parted and Stiles grew strangely conscious about the way his hands were cupping his face. He could feel the heat rushing up into his cheek, the blush probably making him look even more ridiculous than his wolf-form already was. “You...” Derek's voice was choked and raw and Stiles expected the worst, pretty much anything but “You're beautiful.”

And with this, Stiles' mind was officially gone: His eyes turned wide, his pupils surely heavily diluted, and he leaped forward, closing the distance between their faces in one (not so) smooth movement, pressing his lips against Derek's and Derek... froze. Stiles could feel it – the way his fingers jerked slightly against his jaw, his jaw clenched, his eyes widened, his shoulders tensed, hell, even his legs twitched uncomfortably! - before he found himself being jerked away in one rash movement.

Derek's hands were still on the side of his head, grip a lot tighter than before, as he stared at Stiles, eyes wide with shock and swallowing hard. Stiles had fucked up. He definitely had. And a simple apology surely didn't fix it. But he still muttered one. A embarrassingly stupid, stuttered one. All while he simply stared back, eyes also wide and shocked, mouth opening and closing indecisively.

When he finally felt too embarrassed and simply couldn't stand the tension anymore, Stiles moved to wiggle out of Derek's grasp. He had made a proper fool out of himself and he just wanted to close himself in the bathroom and flush himself to a place no one knew him. But just as he made an attempt to pull his face out of Derek's hand, a growl crawled up the older one's throat, freeing itself from Derek's lips just before they pressed against Stiles' rough and hard.

Stiles blinked for a second, his brain needing time to take in what happened, but then he figured What the hell. Derek kissed him. Derek. Kissed him. Awake Derek. Kissed him. Right now. Warm and greedy, mouth parting slightly, sucking on Stiles lower lip. And that was all the prompt he needed: Stiles tilted his head slightly, rubbing his cheek against Derek's palm as he first shy, then more and more greedily kissed back.

Derek made that sound at the back of his mouth, a mixture of a growl and a whine, and it sent shivers down Stiles' spine. His hand had found it's way up to Derek's neck, pulling the older one closer, deeper into the kiss, wanting to taste more of Derek, feel more, touch more. He slightly pulled on Derek's nape, the alpha seeming more than happy to follow his lead and rolling on top of Stiles, letting his body weigh him down just hard enough as to not make his bruises ache.

For a second Derek pulled back from the kiss, just enough for their heavy breaths to mingle in the small space between their lips. His lidded and by now red eyes were staring down at Stiles, his thumbs rubbing over the soft skin on Stiles' cheekbones. And for a second Stiles wished time would just stop right that moment, so he could study the older one's eye for eternity, never having to feel anything else but Derek's warm body on his.

Stiles let out a stuttering breath when Derek's tongue found it's way to lick over Stiles' fangs, his own fully expanded now, too. (And okay, maybe it wasn't all that bad that time didn't stop after all because hell if this was nothing but hot.) And within seconds they were a mingling mess of arms and legs and huffs and groans. Stiles could feel his hips rutting against Derek's lewdly, his erection so hard by now it was almost painful. But at least he wasn't alone in this: He could feel the hard bulge in Derek's jeans against his own erection, could feel the shiver running through the alpha's muscles whenever their bodies pressed together.

“I... I want you..”, Stiles whispered against Derek's lips before his mind had even finished processing the thought. And when the other suddenly pulled back, he suddenly felt cold with fear about having fucked up another close-to-perfect moment in his life by being unable to simply shut up. But then Derek pushed himself up, half sitting onto Stiles' thighs and he pulled his T-shirt over his head and Stiles' head was mush even before Derek leaned down to kiss him again.

Derek's hand found its way between their bodies, cupping Stiles' angry erection through his boxer briefs, eliciting a low moan from the young boy, before slowly pulling down the elastic band. Stiles tried to return the favor, but cursed under his breath as being only able to use one hand to open that stupid fly (why did one even need flies? Why couldn't all jeans be sweatpants, easy to get in, easy to get out - especially when you were in desperate need for some sexy times) was a lot more difficult than he could have imagined. But to Stiles' surprise, Derek huffed a small laugh against his lips as his fingers trailed over Stiles' before taking over.

Stiles was amazed and a little bitter at the same time when within just a few seconds Derek had managed to work open and pull down his jeans to rest at his thighs together with his shorts. But his thoughts were immediately distracted by the pure sight of Derek's cock. He knew he stared, should have been embarrassed about how he unconsciously licked his lips, but he couldn't will himself to look away. And Derek didn't seem to mind; In fact he was staring just the same as he ever so slowly moved his hand down again, warm fingers ghosting over the warm skin covering Stiles' lower abdomen, drawing circles into the pubic hair below.

“Yes...”, Stiles heard himself whisper, his eyes fluttering shut for a second as every fiber in his body seemed to concentrate on the touch. He heard the alpha's stuttered breath above him, felt his body moving, lips finding his own again at the same time as Derek's body aligned with his, pressing their uncovered, hot members together. For a second Stiles' hand found Derek's, counting the fingers, a smile spreading on his face when his count finished with five. This was real. This was real awake Derek. With him.

The thrusts of their hips got faster, Derek's fingers now firmly placed around both of their erections, and Stiles felt like his whole body was taken apart. “Derek....”, he whimpered over and over again. And the other one would return the calling with low groans of Stiles' own name, mumbling it in his hair, his ear, his neck, his shoulders, his chest, filling Stiles with so much heat that he feared his body would just turn to flames. He felt his back arch and the heat pooling in his crotch. “Derek...”, he moaned, knowing he couldn't last too much longer. “Derek...please...I'm....”

But instead of pushing Stiles over the edge, making him come, sucking the groan from his lips, Derek suddenly pulled away with a hissed “Shit!”. He was jumping of the bed basically, his hands busy pulling his jeans back on without getting his erection stuck in the zipper. Stiles stared at him in confusion, eyes blinking. “You're dad's home”, Derek hissed frantically while picking up his shoes. And okay, that might have been an explanation for his sudden retreat, but still not good enough an excuse to leave Stiles hanging like that (okay. He wasn't _hanging_. Quite the opposite actually.). So Stiles' voice sounded a bit too pained for his own ears when he rushed out a “You will come back, right?” at the retreating back of the alpha.

Derek turned around from where he had already opened the window, ready to climb out, and took the distance back to Stiles' bed with a set of long steps, pressing a rushed kiss on Stiles' lips. “I will.” And with that he was gone and when the Sheriff opened the door not even three seconds later, all he found was a slightly breathless Stiles laying in a mess of sheets, eyes closed and lips slightly bruised as he gave his best to pass as a sleeping person.


	19. Staying over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it once again has been way too long since my last update but real life just ..... one of my team members quit the company and so even though I am still on my last project assignment, I - on top of that workload - also had to work for my original team... and it's summer, which for me also means lots of birthday parties and summer events of friends. So....to make it short: Sorry, sorry for making you wait again so long, but I hope the chapter makes up for the wait a bit ^^
> 
> And I have a good part of the next chapter written, too. I will do my best to update by the end of the month the latest! 
> 
> (My current estimation: The story will end with 2 to 3 more chapters... so wait for the grand finale :P)

“You went to bed rather early yesterday.”, the Sheriff commented over the edge of the newspaper spreading in front of him. Stiles almost choked on his cereal. “Y-yeah... getting home and all seemed to be more exciting than I thought.”, he lied not very convincingly, at least if the look the Sheriff shot him was anything to go with.

“Scott left early?” Stiles didn't know what exactly his dad wanted to know, but something definitely was odd. Though he felt too guilty to dig deeper into that matter. (He almost had sex with Derek Hale in his childhood room the night before after all! And hell no, his dad did _not_ have to know about this.) ”Yeah. Around seven or eight maybe? He wanted to stay over but I told him I'd be fine on my own...”

The Sheriff stilled for a second, then nodded slowly, finally letting the topic go. Though the next topic wasn't any easier for Stiles: “The school called today. Seems word spread faster than we thought.” Stiles swallowed, licking his lower lip before daring to look at his father's face. “So they know I don't have noro, hm?” His dad shrugged, letting out a small sigh. “Looks like it. At least about the kidnap, I doubt they already heard about your confession.” Stiles nodded in silence, trying to imagine how life on campus turn out now that everyone knew about him and Matt. “But they seem to understand that you need time to recover, so they told me that you would be excused until you fully recovered. Mr. Deaton will check in on your progress every now and then and inform the director.”

“So much for my silent return...”, Stiles mumbled into his bowl, drowning some of the chocolate-chips swimming in the milk. His dad smiled sympathetically at him, putting away the newspaper. “It will be fine. You said yourself: You're not alone anymore. I'm sure Scott and the others will help you out until things have calmed down.” Stiles wanted to remind his dad how they couldn't be with him all the time, but decided otherwise. Knowing that Stiles indeed could be target of any sort of attack again while unguarded would most likely only result in his dad taking him out of Garnier Academy completely. And this he definitely wanted to avoid.

“You won't happen to have a chance to bunk with Scott, will you?” His dad looked at him with an expression that Stiles wasn't sure he could decipher completely. Love and worry were definitely in there but among all that was something different... Pain? Loneliness? Fear? He couldn't quite pin it, so his voice was a bit wavering when he answered with a lopsided half-smile and a shrug. “He settled pretty perfectly in his dorm it seems. And I think it's time for both of us to get together with other people outside of just the two of us.”

His father agreed silently, fingers playing with his coffee mug. “I just would feel saver knowing someone was with you during the night, too, you know.”, he mumbled. Stiles felt his heart speed up. He had to bite down the most obvious reaction (“I can totally go back to room with Derek! I absolutely insist!”) and settled for a slightly too excited. “We'll figure something out.”

The Sheriff's eyes fixated on him a second too long as to not leave a weird aftertaste to their conversation they had just now, but Stiles chose to ignore it (because, yes, sometimes he actually _could_ shut up when he wanted to.). So instead of talking Stiles slurped the milk and the rest of his soaked cereal from his bowl loudly while the Sheriff emptied his coffee and started clearing the table.

“You're not going to work?”, Stiles asked after the clock turned nine and his dad still went about in the kitchen, doing the dishes that normally would just sit in the sink untouched until dinner. The Sheriff shuck a pile of bubbles from his hands and reached for a towel. “No.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, waiting for some more detail, but his dad made no move to offer him any more explanation. “And that's _because_...”, he offered generously, one eyebrow raised high. His dad fumbled with the kitchen towel for a while until it rested folded on the counter next to the dripping dishes. After what felt like an eternity to Stiles, his father finally let out a sigh. “I am suspended for the time being.”, he admitted in a low voice, eyes focusing on Stiles' face, trying to catch his reaction.

“ _Suspended_?!” Stiles neck turned cold. “Don't tell me it's because of me. Because of what I said? Dad.... I'm so sorry...” But his father interrupted him, placing a warm hand on his shoulder, steadying him in his chair. “It's okay, son. It's just a suspension, nothing more. And yes, your statement might have been part of the reason, but also the simple fact that I'm the father of the victim in our only big case now.” Stiles wanted to interject, but his dad shut him down with a smile. “And I needed a break anyway. Happy to be able to look after you a bit more thoroughly.”

And suddenly Stiles felt guiltier than ever before. Not because he had gotten his dad suspended (though that was already bad enough), but because even if it was just for a split second, the thought that he'd prefer his dad gone so he could get together with Derek had crossed his mind.

He had always begged his dad to not work that much, especially after his mother had died and having his father working had left him spend most of the days alone at home, accompanied by nothing but TV, comics and games. But as he grew older he had stopped trying to guilt his dad into taking a fake sick-day or come home early but instead had sent him off at the door with a smile that only slightly had hurt his face before slumping in a corner of his room, staying way too still for way too long.

So how could he even think about not wanting his dad at home, now that he offered? He was a failure as a son... . “Stiles, don't make that face...”, his father sighed and squeezed his shoulder slightly. “I love having more time with you. And”, he raised both of his eyebrows, smiling that fatherly smile of his, “I promise I won't keep you from hanging out with your friends.”

Stiles stilled for a moment, once again amazed at how his dad just _knew_ him, before he slung his good arm around his dad and pulled him in for a totally manly hug.

 

They sat together in the living room, his dad having prepared a make-shift bed on the couch with tons of fluffy cushions, just how Stiles loved it, and played the whole variety of boardgames they had been able to find in the closet below the staircase. And Stiles loved how his dad didn't even try to let him win out of sympathy, but he had to pull all of his tricks to turn the game in his favor.

At around noon they called delivery service and because it was a special day Stiles didn't even give his father the look when he ordered extra cheese for their diavolo pizza. When the door had shut and his father had walked in with the cartons, almost burning his fingers on the fat soaking parts of the cardboard, Stiles had made grabby hands, a huge grin spreading on his lips. “You moved my stone!”, his dad claimed as he sat the pizzas on the edge of the couch table. “Looks like your grumbling stomach has finally made you crazy!”, Stiles returned, grabbing one of the cartons to rest on his lap, taking a greedy whiff before opening the lid, almost immediately digging in.

After two slides in his own pizza, the Sheriff finally gave up on his stupid accusations (as if Stiles had to cheat to beat him!) and eventually lost with dignity. The telephone rang and while his father got up to answer, Stiles helped himself nonchalantly to the last piece of sinful, cheese-dripping pizza. Readjusting his position in the bulk of pillows, he eaves-dropped in on the conversation his father had in the kitchen. His father's voice was a little hushed as he gave information about Stiles' well-being, followed by a few 'yes' and 'mhm's and to Stiles' surprise ended with something that sounded extremely similar to a 'sweet dreams'.

When his father came back, looking way too innocent, Stiles couldn't hide the glint in his eyes. “Who was it?”, he asked innocently, though he knew perfectly well his dad wasn't fooled by the evenness of his voice. “Oh, just Melissa. Checking in on how you're doing.”, the Sheriff commented as if he hadn't just made googly-eyes at the phone (which, okay, Stiles hadn't seen but that didn't make it any less true.)

“Hmm..”, Stiles returned, eying his father suspiciously. “How come she knew about what I was anyway?” And now this made the Sheriff twitch a little and – of course! - he tried to avoid the topic by pointing out that there was no pizza left. “You stole my last piece!”, he claimed and Stiles avoided getting into details about how the last piece never belongs to anyone but the person who gets his fingers on it first, no matter how many they had had before. So all he said to the pizza-topic was a huffed ”Oh suck it up. It was delicious.” before getting back on topic.

“Since when?” His dad looked at him innocently confused. “Since when does she know?”, Stiles precised his question and gave his father a demanding look, knowing the Sheriff would understand that this was not the time for beating around the bush. Squirming in his seat the Sheriff finally gave in with a sigh. “I told her about a month ago.”, he admitted in a small voice, not meeting Stiles' gaze.

“A month.”, Stiles repeated, the words needing time to sink in. “You told her _a month ago_? Without talking to me about this?” His dad had always lectured him about how he couldn't trust anyone with his secret, not even Scott who basically was his brother since years. He had made him deal with the whole topic all by himself (and okay. His dad had tried to be there for him and support him with all his might, he knew that, but still!), demanding absolute discreetness, silence from him while he ran around telling random people (and again: Okay, yes, Melissa wasn't just anyone. She was almost as much of family as Scott, but if anyone would have had the right to let her in on his biggest secret it would have been Stiles. Not his dad. Especially not while not telling him.)

“You... you told Scott?”, his dad tried to counter, but his voice was filled with ruefulness. That didn't hinder Stiles though from throwing him another death-glare, though only half of it was real anger. “Okay, you're right. It is _your_ secret and I didn't have the right to share it with her, but... you know she would never do anything to hurt you, right? And I didn't plan on telling her. It just kinda sorta slipped...” Stiles raised a judging eyebrow. “ _Kinda sorta_? What's that supposed to mean? You guys did the dirty and it just _slipped_ your lips?”

The shocked and guilty look on his dads face were taking Stiles by surprise and when his father stuttered incoherent words, trying to come up with an excuse, Stiles couldn't help but let out a startled laugh. “Oh my gosh. You guys have been doing it!” He was rewarded with a bright-red Sheriff who buried his face in his hands. “You and Melissa? _Oh my god_!” He tried to sound outraged, but somehow the slightly disturbed, but still genuine smile on his face wouldn't fade. “Don't tell me Scott and I are already real brothers and you guys simply didn't tell us yet?!”

They spend the next hour arguing how his father's engagement with Scott's mom was the most awesome or the most disturbing thing in the world until Stiles generously gave in and forgave his father for being unable to keep things from the people he really cared about. And Melissa was cool, Stiles knew that better than anyone else, so no real harm had been done anyways.

When Stiles went upstairs to sleep after they finished watching some lame-ass movie on TV, his father put down the pile of pillows on the side of Stiles' bed, making sure his son wouldn't hurt his side again when climbing onto the mattress and settling in a comfortable position.

“I'm sorry I kept the thing with Melissa from you.”, he muttered, tugging Stiles in. “We just didn't want to rush anything in case it didn't work out. You know we would have told you soon anyway, right?” Stiles smiled lopsidedly, patting his old man's arm. “It's okay. And it means I don't have to worry about you eating nothing but unhealthy stuff while I'm gone.” His father huffed a laugh and nodded. “Sleep well.” And before he closed the door behind himself he added a heartfelt “I love you, son. You know that, right?” Which left Stiles with a warm feeling and nothing else to say but “Love you, too, dad.”

 

The longer his clock ticked away in the darkness, the uneasier Stiles grew. It wasn't like Derek had specified _when_ he would be back, Stiles just stupidly had assumed it would be the next night (Why wouldn't he just come over to see him like a normal person anyway?) and even though he would deny it to anyone who asked, his heart had been in distress the whole day, the wolf under his skin waiting eagerly to bath in Derek's wonderful smell again.

But it was almost past midnight now and his room still empty.

“You didn't really think he'd come, did you?”, Matt's judging voice floated through the room. “He might have been taken by the moment, his mind probably paused by those weird pheromones you fling at him, but you really think he would decide to come back if he was in his right mind?” The alpha ascended from the shadows of Stiles' room and made his way over to where his desk was, pulling the desk chair between his legs, making himself comfortable.

“He will come.”, Stiles answered stubbornly. He should have told Matt off, called him stupid for even thinking Derek wouldn't mean it. But to be frank, he himself wasn't too sure whether Derek might not have changed his mind. Maybe. A little. “You're _adorable_ ,you know that?” Matt span around in his chair, chin resting on the backrest. “How you try so _desperately_ to hold onto this imagination you built up. An alpha like Derek wouldn't go for a disfigured _thing_ like you. You've seen him, right?” Matt's face split in a grin. “A Greek god like him and a deformed half-wolf like you? Don't make this any sadder than it already is, Stiles.”

Stiles grit his teeth, nostrils flaring slightly with every strained breath he took. Matt was wrong. Yes, it might be unlikely that a guy like Derek would socialize with a social outcast like him, but it wasn't totally impossible! And maybe everything that happened between him and sleeping Derek had been enough to make the alpha go rouge and most probably him knowing about Stiles' true form didn't exactly make things easier, but Stiles refused to think that the fun times they spent together in the seclusion of their room had been anything but real.

“Just shut the fuck up”, Stiles hissed, his eyes doing his best to glare the grinning boy down.

“Who are you talking to?”, a husky voice came from across the room, drawing Stiles attention immediately.

Derek stood by the window, one of his legs still halfway stuck up on the frame where he had climbed in. Stiles look at him, then back at Matt, who still grinned at him widely. Panic rose in Stiles as his eyes flicked back to Derek, who now frowned a little confusedly at him. “You okay?”, he asked stepping up to Stiles bed. Derek couldn't see him, Stiles mind screamed. Derek couldn't _see_ Matt, but _he_ _did_. Matt was there, staring at him with that evil grin plastered on his lips as if to underline that, yes, Stiles had gone crazy.

Stiles must have stopped breathing for a while as the next thing he noticed was Derek's hand on his chest, his voice prompting him to relax. Stiles nodded, forcing himself to look away from Matt and into Derek's warm, worried eyes. A thought ripped through his head and Stiles grabbed the alpha's hand, pulling it up into sight. “Please...”, he muttered under his breath as he started counting. He stared down at Derek's hand, a stuttered breath leaving his lungs. “Five.” Five. Five fingers. This was reality.

His eyes glanced back at his desk chair, now empty as it was supposed to be, and he suddenly felt like crying. Derek looked at him worriedly, chewing on his lip slightly as he took in the younger one's torn state. “Stiles...”, he addressed him carefully, drawing attention back to him. “What.... what scares you so much?” He wanted to give an answer, Stiles really wanted to. But the words just wouldn't cross his lips. If he told Derek that he kept seeing and hearing his torturer – his _dead_ torturer – Derek would just come to the same conclusion as he himself did: That something in his brain had burned, leaving him a serious case for the nuthouse.

“I think I can't even imagine what you went through and how much the experience must still haunt you...”, Derek said, his gaze falling to where Stiles held his hand and slowly he cupped Stiles' still trembling fingers with his. “But it's over. And no matter how dark the shadows or your past are, you....” He took a deep breath before looking into Stiles eyes again with an expression Stiles thought he never had seen in the older one's eyes before. “ _You gotta let go_. Clinging to the past won't make you happy. But the present _might_.”

Stiles had the weird feeling like Derek had changed topics somehow without him noticing, but as the words sunk in, his mind was too occupied to follow that trail of thought. “I... I don't know how...”, he confessed, feeling utterly weak and vulnerable.

“You'll get over this. Matt can't get to you anymore.” Derek squeezed his hand slightly as if to stress how important his next words would be. “ _You're stronger than this._ ”

And it was as if someone had emptied a bucket of cold water over him. He didn't know why it was Derek who had to say it. Stiles himself should know best: _He was stronger than this_. He wasn't some stupid, vulnerable victim. He might be a half-blood and a flailing, blabbering mess every now and then, but he was strong. He had taken all the bullshit from his class-mates, the hurtful comments from his teachers when it came to his hyperactivity, shaken off every time he had been shoved into a locker by one of the jocks, … . There was no way he let Matt out of all people defeat himself. Whatever was wrong with him, he would fix it. Because he always fixed it.

“Thanks.”, he whispered, a smile tugging on his lips as he met Derek's eyes. And to Stiles' surprise, Derek smiled back, one of those rare, shining, genuine smiles. In fact it surprised Stiles so much, that instead of just launching himself at the alpha, pressing their mouths together, he stared just that one second too long to leave both of them fall into an awkward silence. And once the silence settled it was hard to find the right words to actually break it again. So they just kept looking at each other, smiles turning a bit crooked.

Derek's eyes were the first to slide away, falling onto where his hand was still grasping Stiles'. His face twitched for a second and Stiles would have found the expression hilarious if it hadn't been followed by Derek pulling away his hands, clearing his throat silently. Stiles dropped his own hands in his lap, unsure what to do now as the awkwardness crept heatedly into his cheeks. In the end his mouth cleared the situation by simply stating the obvious: “Awkward, huh?”

For a second Stiles thought Derek might just get up and leave to get away from his inappropriate dorkiness, but after a second of just looking at Stiles as if he just had sprouted rainbow-colored wings out of his head, Derek let out a snorting laugh. “Sorry...”, he said, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. “I'm not good with talking.”

Stiles grinned. “Tell me something I don't know.” And only after the words had left his mouth, Stiles noticed that maybe they could be taken as an offense, so, fearing this might once again be one comment too many, Stiles continued to explain hastily. “But that's cute. I mean, okay, _cute_ might be the wrong word. _Is_. Cute definitely _is_ the wrong word. I mean.. I don't mind that. Not at all. And, you know, I'm also not good with talking. Just not in the same way. _Obviously_.” Derek chuckled (Chuckled!) and the sound sent Stiles' nerves on fire, a blush heating up his ears. “Sorry... I'm babbling...”, he muttered and bit down on his lips.

Derek looked at him silently for a moment, his expression softer than Stiles remembered it. “You should sleep.”, the older one finally said, hand reaching for Stiles' shoulder in an attempt to get him under the covers. “It's late already and you still shouldn't overexert yourself.”

Derek turned around to make his way back to the window, hand already supporting his weight on the window sill preparing to climb through the slightly too small frame. “Derek”, Stiles blurted out, heart beating a bit too frantically at the thought of Derek just leaving like that. “You... you don't happen to sleep bad again?” Derek turned around, brows furrowed questioningly.

“I mean...”, Stiles swallowed slightly to give his words time to get themselves in the right order before tumbling out. “You used to sleep unwell all alone and... and I kinda, too, seem to sleep a lot better with you around, so I thought that maybe, I mean only if you'd be cool with that, you could, I dunno, … sleep over?” By the time the suggestion had fully spilled from his lips, Stiles suddenly felt not only nervous but utterly stupid. I mean: _Who says stuff like that?_ Besides stupid, no-brain-to-mouth-filter-attached Stiles of course. He mentally face-palmed.

But before he could fully throw himself into his dark hole of self-pity, Derek turned around, an almost shy smile tugging at his lips. Hesitatingly he pushed himself back from the window and made his way back to Stiles' bed. “You know what?”, he muttered, already starting to pull off his shoes. “I think I'd be _cool with that_.” He smirked and received an embarrassed groan in return. Okay, so Stiles wasn't the most poetical person from time to time. Derek was still an ass to point it out. But an ass who climbed into bed next to Stiles, so he was more than willing to forgive.

It was weird how without any ineptitude they found their positions next to each other in the small bed, Stiles lying on his side, cast-covered hand resting in front of his chest while Derek pulled himself closer to him, a steady but careful hand on Stiles' hip while adjusting his biceps under his head. It should have been weird to lie with their faces so close from each other, but it really wasn't. It made Stiles' heart almost burst with butterflies, yes, but besides that a strange warmness spread through his body, making him almost instantly relax under the alpha's touch.

Derek watched Stiles' body going limp and smiled contentedly, his thumb drawing innocent circles over the younger one's hipbone as he muffled a yawn. “Good night, Stiles”, he croaked and Stiles found it way too adorable how the usually grumpy sourwolf almost instantly turned into a sleepy puppy who seemed to have a hard time to even hold his eyes open long enough to hear Stiles' comeback. But Stiles, too, had to admit that now that Derek's body was sheltering him from the shadows in his room his lids turned heavy, too.


	20. Connecting the dots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, guys, I am SO SORRY!!!! I can't believe it has been so long since I last updated...
> 
> Life has been just.... crazy the last year. Too much work, too much food, too little sleep... depression, holidays, writers block, work again... it paid out somehow, I guess, but I am currently trying to get some of my life back again. Find time to make music, write and draw again.
> 
> And I just want to say THANK YOU!!!! to every single one of you who did not give up on me or this fic. I don't know what this story would have turned out without your crazy & never-ending encouragement. Really, I love you guys so much, you have no idea!
> 
> I can't say when I will be able to update next, but I promise I will do my utmost to finish this story. It's 2 more chapters and I hope I can get some writing done next to my friend's event this long weekend, but seeing that almost a year passed since my last update I don't want to make any real predictions.
> 
> Once again: Thank you guys so much for your comments & all the love you showed for this fic!  
> It means so much to me, you have no idea!!!

When Stiles' woke up the next morning he was alone in bed. For a while he just stared at the empty spot besides him, thoughts running wild, scanning his memory. He had counted the fingers. Derek had been there. It had been real. “He was here...”, he assured himself as he slowly sat up. But for some reason he couldn't quite shake off the numb feeling in his chest.

With a sigh he reached for his phone to check for any new message from Scott. To his surprise he finds a message from a number he did not expect. With content he expected even less. “Sorry. Heard your dad. Hope you slept well.”, the message read. And another one dated a few minutes after the first one: “I did.”

Stiles couldn't help but grin like a madman at the simple two words. Who knew that four letters could make one this happy? He surely hadn't known until now. And with every time he read the message, again and again, his grin just turned wider until it felt his face would split apart.

 

The day went by quietly and way too slow after Stiles' had dug his way through a set of pancakes (having a dad at home with time in the morning wasn't so bad after all.). First he watched TV, but nothing but re-runs of outdated series and the fat woman trying to coax him into buying something called the “Wondermill”(it looked disturbingly like an ill-shaped dildo if anyone asked Stiles...) was on. He then had his dad bring his box of comics down,and lazily started flipping through them. But somehow even Batman couldn't distract his mind from going back to the events of last night while almost simultaneously drawing up colorful phantasies of what might happen when Derek came over again the following night. (Stiles just knew he would. Or... okay... he _wished_. But Derek had said he had in fact enjoyed staying over, right?)

After having his dad run on an errand to the DVD rental and bring him home a whole stack of movies (damn it was great to have him ride the guilt train a bit longer – Stiles was sure even if he asked him to do a handstand while singing Spice Girls, his dad would do it just to make up for staying silent about him and Melissa), Stiles spend the rest of the day munching away on popcorn watching TV while his dad cleaned up the tower of cardboard boxes full of old files that were stacked next to the kitchen door.

Finally night rolled around and Stiles made up excuses to go up to his room earlier than usual. And as the living room on the ground level turned quiet, Stiles noticed a movement in the shadow of his room. “I thought you never show up...”, he mumbled, an almost shy smile on his lips.

“Your anticipation is so heartwarming...” The mocking voice made the hairs on Stiles' neck stand while he watched Matt step out of the shadow. “I knew you came around for me one day.” The werewolf leaned against his desk, resting both of his hands on the edge of the table. Stiles meanwhile tried his best to press his back as far in the headboard as possible, pulling up his legs defensively.

“You're not here.”, he said more to himself than to the grinning man in front of him. “You're only part of my imagination. A reflection of a traumatic event.” He had done his share of research about post-traumatic stress after returning home. It fit. It had to be. But the chuckle floating through the room still made his stomach turn.

“It's cute how you try to fight me.”, Matt commented with a smirk. “But... I'm here. Whether you want it or not.” He gestured over his body before spreading his arms out, head dipping slightly in a mocking bow. “You know, you would do yourself and me a favor if you just stopped struggling.” He let his fingers run over the wooden material of the desk, eyes never leaving Stiles. “We could do great things, if you just surrendered. All of this could be over easily, if you just accepted me.”

Stiles shuddered, he felt his stomach turn, nausea finding it's way up his throat. There was no way he would ever let Matt take control. He was stronger than that. Derek had been right. He was strong. And no matter how much Matt would continue to torture him, he would not break down. Stiles swallowed the feeling of sickness and disgust, clearing his throat in order to give Matt a piece of his mind when he registered a movement from the corner of his eyes.

“Stiles?” Derek stared at him bewildered from where he was positioned next to the open window. Stiles hadn't even noticed him coming in. Stiles stilled for a second, his eyes flickering to his desk.  
  
The space was empty. “It's... It's nothing...”, he muttered quickly, averting his eyes. He knew Derek could hear the lie in his voice, heartbeat spiking for a second, but the alpha didn't inquire further. Instead he walked over, slowly sitting down on the corner of the bed.

Silence fell upon them for a few stretched seconds and Stiles could feel the tension in Derek's body. Derek turned his head, looking at him silently, his eyes searching Stiles'. It was obvious that he held back from asking all the questions that must have been piling up inside him. But Derek stayed silent and after a few moments he took off his shoes, lifting his eyebrows as if to ask for permission. When Stiles answered his silent question with a nervous smile, the older one huffed gently and slipped into the space next to Stiles, their upper bodies resting beside each other against the head rest.

“Thank you for coming over again..”, Stiles said slightly nervously, watching Derek from the corner of his eyes while his fingers busied themselves fumbling with the zipper of his covers. Derek made a rumbling noise at the back of his throat, eyes following the nervous movement of Stiles long fingers.

“I thought you might have trouble sleeping again.” Normally Stiles would have felt mocked by the tone in the alpha's voice, but the smile that curled up the corners of his lips was so distractingly beautiful that Stiles decided to bite down any come-back his mind wanted to throw in the ring.

“How are things in the outside world?”, Stiles asked after his heartbeat had calmed down a little. Derek shrugged slightly, his biceps rubbing against Stiles' in the motion. “Normal, I guess? Scott and the others are attending their classes more or less regularly, Lydia and Jackson are having one of their spats again it seems, Erica punched one of the Economics alpha's in the throat after he touched her butt... oh and Cora and Isaac have been copying some of their notes for you. I...” He hesitated a second. “I could bring them over... tomorrow?” Stiles smiled at him, his increasing heart rate enough of an answer to make the alpha return the smile.

“I heard that the story about …. what happened has spread.” Stiles looked at Derek unable to block the nervousness from his voice. “Is... is it bad?” He had figured several scenarios of his return to school and none of them had been very pleasant. To be frank, he was scared, now that the truth had come out. He had told it himself, had decided he was fine with it, but the insecurity gnawed at him. What would the other students think of him when they found out not only about his kidnapping but also his true identity? What treatment would he receive? And what if some other alpha wanted to finish what Matt had been unable to do?

The fear must have shown on his face, because suddenly Derek's arm slung around him and pulled him close, his other arm completing the hug as it found its way around his back. “You will be fine.”, the older one promised. “I...We will make sure of this.” And even though Stiles knew it wasn't as easy as this, he found himself relaxing against the alpha's warm chest. “As far as Scott and the others have heard there's talk about how Matt went crazy and locked you away. There's several versions of the 'why', but it seems no one is talking about the possibility of you being a half-blood.”

Derek's fingers raked through Stiles' short hair, his blunt nails scratching slightly over his scalp, sending comfortable shudders down Stiles' spine. “What if they found out?”, Stiles silently asked after a few moments of silence. Derek rested his chin on Stiles' head, letting out a small sigh. “Then we'll take care of everyone who even thinks about getting near you for the wrong reasons.” The determination in Derek's voice made Stiles still for a second before he felt a smile spread on his lips.

It was still weird, how Derek was back in his life again, how even with all the lies and secrets out in the open he had not just left Stiles behind. Stiles had been sure, after the night Derek had awaken in his room, the alpha would never look him in the eye again. Now that he was thinking about it, Stiles still didn't understand what made him change his mind. He had been so furious that night, the disgust and fury in his eyes so visible...

Derek gently put his hands on Stiles' chin and pulled his face up, so he could look him in the eyes. “It will be fine...”, the older one reassured him. “I'm sure things will turn out fine. People will get used to you being a half-blood just as they got used to having werewolves among them in general... and until then we'll keep everyone off who tries to hurt you like that again.”

Stiles smiled, pushing himself up slightly, reaching for a kiss. “Of course he would look after you...” He froze at the by now way too familiar voice, his skin turning cold. “...can't have one's goods damaged, can we?”

Derek looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, obviously having sensed Stiles' sudden tension. “Why do you think he acts sweet suddenly? Now that he knows what you are?” Stiles kept his eyes locked with Derek's. Matt wasn't real after all. He had to shut him out. He couldn't let himself be influenced by him. “You really think he's different from me?” The sharp laughter made Stiles twitch in Derek's embrace. “He is disgusted with you, like everyone should be. But he knows your _power_. And he'd be a fool to not keep them to himself.”

Stiles snapped his head around to where he thought the voice had come from, but the room was empty. He strained his ears, but there was nothing but silence besides his rugged breath and the silent sound of his and Derek's heartbeats. “Stiles...” Derek whispered. “What's wrong?”

The younger one stayed still for a few more seconds before slowly returning his gaze to the worried man in front of him. Derek's lips were pressed into a tight line and his eyebrows drawn so close together it looked almost painful. “What did you hear?”, he asked, his voice still hardly louder than a whisper. “I thought...” Stiles looked at him silently before shaking his head. “Nothing”, he muttered. “It... it was nothing.”

Derek obviously didn't buy his blunt lie, but he also didn't dig deeper. The worry still on his face and the tension still in his shoulders, he brushed a small kiss on Stiles' forehead before letting out a small sigh, his hand resting at the back of Stiles' head. And after a few minutes of Derek gently caressing the soft hair on his neck, Stiles had found his calm again and he leaned his head against Derek's chest, staring at how the soft fabric of the t-shirt clung over his broad shoulders.

But something about what Matt had said didn't let go of his mind, so after they had just laid there for a while, the question simply tumbled from Stiles' lips. “Why have you forgiven me?”

When Stiles lifted his head, Derek looked at him in confusion. He didn't even know why he couldn't just let it go, enjoy what he finally had with Derek instead of questioning his motives. But even before Matt had spelled it out it had been gnawing on his mind. The picture of Derek's angry face, the sheer rage visible in the demolished condition of Derek's room... “How could you forgive me for lying so easily after you were so angry with me, so... furious?”

For a moment Derek just stared at him, a rush of emotions flowing over his face too quick for Stiles to be able to decipher them. And with every second of silence, Stiles grew anxious. What if Derek hadn't forgiven him after all? What if there was something else behind his behavior? Stiles didn't want to think about Derek being anything like Matt. He wouldn't keep him only to use him for whatever power Stiles might hold, but... but he had been so enraged! Stiles had lied to him, had used him, had taken advantage of his sleepwalking. It wouldn't have been weird if Derek had never spoken to him again, if he had ripped out his throat. But here he was, his body warm against Stiles'... it didn't make sense.

“I...”, Derek finally muttered, eyes focusing on an empty spot behind Stiles. “I wasn't really angry with _you_.”

The sudden confession made Stiles look up at the alpha directly, brows furrowed and confusion clearly visible in his eyes. “If you weren't pissed at _me_ , who then?” Derek grit his teeth, jaw ticking with tension as he did that thing with his brow again that always kind of impressed Stiles. A few seconds ticked by in silence. When there still was no answer falling from the older one's lips, Stiles jerked his head in frustration. “Derek. I can't read thoughts.”, he huffed annoyed. “If you want people to know what's going on in your head you have to use words. You know that, right?”

If what Derek said was true then all those weeks of self-loathing, of beating himself up over the 'fact' that the older one hated him for everything he did would have been stupid and unnecessary. At one side Stiles was relieved by that thought, but at the same time it also made him angry. Angry with himself. But also angry with Derek who hadn't said anything until now. “ _Talk_ to me, damn it!”

He needed to know – for sure – whether Derek had just big-heartedly forgiven him for all the nights he had taken advantage of his clouded state of mind or whether in fact the overwhelming anger he had seen in Derek's eyes that day, the look he had seen so many times when closing his eyes, making him feel disgusting and weak, had actually been directed at someone else.

“Me.”, Derek finally offered, voice so low Stiles almost missed it.

“Huh?”, he asked rather ungracefully. Now that didn't make sense?

“ _Me_.”, the alpha repeated, voice louder this time. “I was angry with _me_.” And, okay, now Stiles was completely confused. And judging by the slight huff that left Derek's lips as he finally looked at him, it most likely showed all over his face. “I was freaking out that night not because I woke up in your room, but...” Derek took a deep breath. “...but because I was finally able to see the whole picture.”

Stiles gaped, his face converting in grimaces as he tried to come up with some comment. But neither his brain nor his mouth for once could follow up. Derek looked at him, eyes showing a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. “I wasn't really excited when I found out I had a room mate, as you might remember.” Stiles let out a snort at the memory of their first meeting. “But after a while I... I thought it was nice having you around.”

“But then I started having these dreams... about encountering a wolf. And... for me the wolf in my dreams... well... he wasn't just _any_ wolf.” Derek's eyes flickered to Stiles' face, studying it for a second as if he wasn't sure he should go on before he finally let out a slightly stuttering breath. “It was a wolf from my past. “

Stiles frowned, unsure how to use the information he was provided with. “Back when...when our house burned down, I lost everything. Besides my sister, I lost my whole family. And even her I only barely managed to safe from the fire.” Stiles carefully placed a hand on Derek's biceps, trying to offer some comfort as well as to prompt Derek to continue, to let him know whatever information he told him, it would be safe.

“I... I hated being a werewolf.” Derek admitted silently, his face turning hard. “Being a werewolf was what got our family killed. What made us hunted.” He let out a stuttered breath, closing his eyes for a second as if to compose himself. “But...even more than that, I hated myself. I had been naive. I basically had invited a killer into our house. They all were dead because of _me_. Because _I_ trusted the wrong person.”

Stiles remembered Cora's comments about Derek's ex-girlfriend and finally he felt the different pieces of information he had been fed fit together.

“I ran.”, Derek continued, eyes focusing on an empty spot on the sheets. “I ran from the house, from the corpses trapped in it and... and I ran from my baby sister.” His face distorted with plain and visible guilt. ”I... I just couldn't take it.” Stiles felt his throat closing up at the pain flickering in the older one's eyes. He remembered how much it had hurt him when he lost his mum. To think Derek not only had lost _one_ beloved family member but more than _six_ of them... it broke his heart.

His hand tightened slightly around the alpha's lower warm, squeezing it compassionately. The older one's eyes watched the movement, his lips stretching in a sad smile for a moment before he continued talking. “But looking at our home going up in flames, hearing my family's cries dying out in the ashes of our childhood... I knew for sure I didn't want to be a human. Humans were the ones that did that. We might have been supernatural creatures, but _them_?” Derek took a tight, stuttering breath, trying to calm the anger rising up inside of him at the cruelty depicted in his memories. “ _They_ were the real monsters. Not us. And I resented them with every fiber of my being.”

Stiles couldn't stand the look on Derek's face much longer. He shifted in his space, managing to somehow maneuver his body fully on top of Derek's until he sat on the alpha's thighs. For once in his life, Stiles had no clue what to say. So instead of uttering empty words of consolation, his arms found their way around Derek's broad shoulders, now his turn to pull the other one into a tight hug. He felt Derek's hesitant smile against his neck and this alone was enough to make him want to never let go.

“I don't remember much about the hours after.... but I seemed to have rejected both my human _and_ my werewolf side completely. I must have roamed the forest as nothing but a stray animal, hurt and lost.” Stiles felt Derek's arms sling around his torso, one of his hands finding its way up to his neck again, stroking his thumb over the skin in small circles. “Until someone found me. Another wolf. Young, reckless, …. _beautiful_. Something was off about that kid...” Derek's body shook with a silent laugh. “...but his mesmerizing eyes were the first thing that I remembered again after regaining consciousness. And something in me just... _wakened_.”

Stiles slowly pulled back. Something of this story tugged at the back of his mind. It seemed like he had heard the story before, but he couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. Derek looked him straight in the eye, the pain and anger completely gone from his features and instead replaced by a soft and gentle smile. Stiles felt his own lips curling up slightly as the older one's hands cupped his face. “I had thought we had been the only wolves in town, but that wolf was _real_. And if a human wouldn't have interrupted us I definitely would have tried to find out who he was.”

Stiles leaned into the warmth of Derek's palms, closing his eyes for a second to fully take in the sensation. “But when I noticed I was running again, it was already to late. I was somewhere in the woods and to my own frustration I couldn't remember the location of the house I had met the wolf at. After returning to my life, I had spent months searching for that wolf... .” Stiles could feel Derek shake his head slightly before he opened his eyes and met his warm gaze. “I can't even count all the jokes Cora made because of that... She told me over and over again that I was nuts and in the end I really started to believe that maybe it really had just been my mind playing a trick on me.”

Cora had told Stiles about this wolf Derek had been infuriated with before. But hearing the story from Derek, knowing all the details that lead up to it, it made his skin tingle. If this really meant what it sounded like, if the familiarity of this story was no coincidence, then... just maybe...

“I had given up on ever finding that wolf...”, Derek whispered and the way he looked into Stiles' eyes, pulling him closer, made the younger one's heart race. “... but when I shared rooms with you I had those dreams again. Over and over. At first I thought that in my sleep the proximity of our living arrangement simply overlapped with the memories of my childhood and that was why... why the wolf in my dreams looked so much like _you_.” Stiles by now had to hold back with every fiber of his body to not just launch himself at Derek, kissing the living hell out of him. “I felt bad for all the things I did in my dreams... for... I mean... I basically _forced_ myself on you.”

Stiles vividly shook his head, unable to hold back the grin plastered on his face. He wanted to tell Derek how if anyone was to blame it was Stiles who took advantage of the situation, how he had been sleepwalking and hence not to be hold accountable for anything (and that, even though it was hard to admit out loud, any advances made had been highly welcomed), but before he could say anything, Derek's lips crashed against Stiles'.

The kiss was heated, desperate but also filled with hope and happiness. Stiles opened his lips, allowing Derek to dip his tongue in, greeting it with a teasing stroke by his own. He felt Derek's fingernails scrape over his scalp as he adjusted the angle of his head to allow both of them better access. The older one took his invitation gratefully, deepening the kiss until he finally pulled back a few millimeters, his hot breath ghosting over Stiles' lips as both of them caught their breath again.

Slowly, Derek pulled away, but not without placing another open-mouthed kiss on Stiles lips. His hands found their way to Stiles' cheeks again, cupping them carefully as his thumbs caressed the slightly flushed skin there. “The dreams turned real enough for me to want more.” Derek continued his story, voice vibrating in his throat. “But I liked what we had... I mean: That kind of friendship was something I hadn't really had in ages.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow and let out a disbelieving snort. “You have a pack.” Derek returned the lifted eyebrow with a small smile. “Yes, I might have a pack, but I'm their _alpha_ and... well... I've never been able to be as... relaxed around them as I turned out to be with you.” Stiles didn't even know why those words made him feel so stupidly proud, but the grin returned to his face, spreading wider than ever before. Derek looked at him for a second in silence, his expression soft and loving as his thumbs moved to rest next to Stiles' dimples.

He took a breath and closed his eyes for a second. His expression changed when he opened them again to look at Stiles directly. “I didn't know how to handle the situation anymore without jeopardizing the relationship we had, so... I agreed to the room-change. I thought if we would not be so close to each other, if we would stop sleeping in the same room, the dreams would subside and we could just continue the way we were.”

The alpha avoided Stiles' gaze at those words, which for Stiles meant that by now the older one at least knew how much bullshit that was. If he had just told Stiles everything he did now back then, hell, they could have avoided all the crap that had been going on and instead spend their days happy, humping each others brain out!

“You're stupid. You know that?”, Stiles said only to state the obvious. Derek lifted his gaze again and shrugged slightly, one corner of his lips slightly moving up to reveal a lopsided smile that was so cute it made Stiles want to kiss it right off the werewolf's face. “Well, I know that now...” And this deserved him a punch in the shoulder. Not that any punch Stiles could ever inflict on the alpha would actually hurt him.

“I thought the dreams would stop with you and me in different rooms, but instead they only got worse.” Stiles wanted to interrupt, because 'worse' wasn't really a word he agreed described their nightly encounters, but Derek caught his lips between his fingers, keeping his mouth forcibly shut while throwing him a affectionate smile as he continued talking. “The image of you got stronger and the actions I took more... _extreme_.” Stiles could almost feel the sparkle in his eyes that made Derek roll his eyes.

“I felt utterly guilty.... so when I woke up in your room... when I noticed that sharing a bed with you had in fact not been a dream... that _all_ of it had been _reality_ , I just… freakedoutand... I'm sorry. I should have handled the situation better, I really should have. I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am...”

This time it was Stiles who shut the other one up with a kiss. A long and slow one that he hopefully conveyed all his feelings somehow.

Derek returned the kiss more than willingly, slinging one arm around Stiles' hips and pulling him closer until Stiles found himself flush against Derek's body, noticing the older one's erection growing beneath his hips. A low moan bubbled at the back of his throat as Derek rolled his hips slightly against him.

“Wait a second...”, Stiles suddenly interrupted, pulling his lips away from the alpha, ignoring his discontented growl. “Is that why you asked about where I lived?” Stiles frowned at the older one questioningly. “Did you actually run all the way to my childhood home to see whether this was the place of your memory? The room of your wolf?” Derek looked a little embarrassed at the revelation and all the answer Stiles got was a slight shrug of shoulders.

“You know I thought you were about to hunt down my dad to seek revenge for me doing those things to you at night, right?” For some reason Stiles was feeling angry and stupid. To think all those feelings, all that fear that had taken a hold of his body back than been for nothing?

Derek forced Stiles head closer to his again, pressing a kiss on Stiles' thin lined lips. “I'm sorry...”, he muttered, putting on something that could amost count as an apologetic pout. Stiles felt himself already relaxing again, his heart too easily soothed for his own taste. He wanted to protest and tell Derek how a simple apology would not make up for all the turmoil he had went through because of him, but when the alpha added a husky “I'll make up for it. I promise.” he simply couldn't stay angry anymore.

Stiles leaned down and kissed the smirk from the older one's face and Derek opened his lips in an invitation, his big hand roaming over Stile's back, his shoulders up to his neck. Drawing circles on the warm skin with his thumb, he teasingly licked against Stiles' already parted lips. Stiles moaned when his tongue slid against Derek's, his fingernails digging in the alpha's broad shoulders.

“I missed this...” Stiles heard himself confess when Derek moved on from ravishing his mouth to nipping on the skin on his throat. And for a second he stilled, fearing he might have broken whatever magic had brought Derek to him. But the older one didn't pull back, didn't push Stiles off. Instead a low rumble vibrated in his chest and he pushed his face deeper into the crook of Stiles' neck.

He didn't need to look at Derek's face to know that his eyes were oozing red and the blunt teeth that had scraped over his skin were now sharpened in fangs. Stiles raked his fingers through Derek's dark hair, gently pulling the alpha's head back. Just because he didn't need to look at Derek's face didn't mean he didn't want to. Cause hell, he knew he could never get enough of the wolfed-out sight of the alpha.

And Derek didn't fight him, let Stiles pull his head back until their eyes locked. And with nothing but another rumbling in his throat and a barely audible “I missed you, too...” Stiles felt his own eyes shift.

For a few seconds they just lay there, Stiles on top of Derek, taking in each others features like starved men. No sound but the beating of their hearts and a car alarm going off a few streets over. And when Derek started pulling on his neck, Stiles went with the movement without hesitation, locking their lips once again in a lazy, almost begrudgingly slow kiss.  
  


Only later he noticed that for the first time since his wakening, he hadn't felt the least bit embarrassed when Derek had stared at his shifted form.


End file.
